A gale of psalms from the chapel doors
Some trembling song stretched heavenward
And carried on the cold wild wind
Lingering in March
Steadied hand on steady glass
A toast to absent company
Bartered blood and borrowed brass
While outside sirens sing
Left at last call
Dreamed a dream by the old canal
He slept through the night
And they came and they traced him in white
On Ash Wednesday
So midnight falls still and black
As silent as that maker's hand
That left you reeling, left you cold
When your weary world it woke
The phone dropped to the floor in the kitchen
The TV was flickering, hissing the news
Some far flung half truths
But home's where the heart is
And home's where the hurt is too
I left at last call
Dreamed a ghost on the 44
In amber light, the city sleeps peaceful tonight
On Ash Wednesday
