I cannot sing (anymore than you can preach)

I cannot sing
Anymore
Than you can preach
But I see the real value through these half-shut eyes.

I was tumbling along in the wake of a miracle
Spilling the words I snatched up,
Greedy children's fingers closing round treasures hidden in sweaty pockets.

I stopped to stare in awe at a grey haired man
Crying out with the voice of the strings under his fingers,
Head bent against the rain that only fell at his end of the subway.

Somehow I watched too long and lost the figures I followed,
Stumbling alone into the endless dark, tracing with grubby, deep-pocket fingers
The words left by lost poets on the grey-textured wall.

I cannot sing
Anymore
Than you can preach
But I see the real value through these half-shut eyes.

I was blinking in the brightness of the lights in this new world,
Till a hand closed round my head, shading my eyes
Tired stumbling feet sinking gratefully into the new pair of shoes offered.

I spoke to a stripper in the club the club with dirty corners,
Told her she had great eyes, what did she do in the daylight?
She said she slept or smoked shit - but I saw an artist in her eyes.

I was humming a tune I didn't understand, struggling past
Empty churches till I found the last preacher on a doorway with a cigarette,
I told him I don't like this place no more, I want to go back.

He laughed and said there's no going back for anyone now,
His words were black and screeched like mountain winds,
I held his hand awhile and felt the holy ghost slip away.

I cannot sing
Anymore
Than you can preach
But I see the real value through these half-shut eyes.

I drank to the health of a man in the dusty pub
He told me tomorrow he's going home, been away too long
I smiled, but in the darkest dreams I saw the plane crash down, and Molly's crying.

Stinging liquor ran down my throat and chin, biting
'Till I no longer felt the cold. I'd been fumbling with my words,
'Till someone shared a fire and I shared their whisky.

I was tumbling along in the wake of a miracle
Spilling the words I snatched up,
Greedy children's fingers closing round treasures hidden in sweaty pockets.

I cannot sing
Anymore
Than you can preach
But I see the real value through these half-shut eyes.