But Jane, that is a luxury
The aesthetics of love, the athletics of loss
Wriggling up from the mud on the shores of Granville
The naysayers fly like the hounds at your heels
And your dry face of steel
There are those of a little faith, it seems
In the shadow hymn of the scratch man
They are holding out one righteous hand
I have seen you in your fluttering dress
And fade out and disappear
While the other leads the marching band
Oh but Jane, in the wink of an eye
But Jane, that is a luxury
See Jane, something's gone dead inside my head
And they pull me down like gravity
Sometimes someone drifts by
And I see them on every street corner
Oh Jane, there's an art to the game
Heed the message, kill the messenger
There's nothing but fear
They still mean something to me
Sometimes the beauty of life
The smell of the ground in the ripening air
And in time I might find
Seem ages from here
To the shibboleth of Shadowland
And I see them on every street corner
There are those of a little faith in me
And our nets get entwined in the sea
And they beg for truth like charity
Hits like lightening washing everything clear
Oh Jane, the bruise colored clouds
And these dimmers of doubt flicker
Oh Jane, now they'll whisper your name
And you won't feel the chains, you won't see the moss
They are masters in the sleight of hand
They are dancers and they step so grand
As you're dragging your red rowing boat
Oh Jane, the rivers of grief, the tears of relief
'Cross the forever fields
Oh Jane, I heard you found love
