Liverpool Child
¶ 1
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And those bruises that blossomed like roses
And those wishes that died on the vine
All here in the shadows that cling to
The promise of water and wine
¶ 2
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And day is for fishers of wisdom
Whose yoke is the burden of proof
But night is for fishers of freedom
Whose light takes its source from the truth
¶ 3
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And lightning has no sweeter kisses
And thunder has no purer rage
And the world with its rocks and its fashions
Could not build a more dishonest stage
¶ 4
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Rolled up in the waves without mercy
Thrown out to the sea without thought
Held fast and then flung to the ocean
But willingly, willingly caught
¶ 5
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I will stand at the edge of this madness
And challenge the demons that bray
As they feast on the hand of forgiveness
With their hearts dead with rust and decay
¶ 6
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Wait where the light is the strongest
Wait where you know I can stay
Wait by the world that has plundered
And lain with its devils of clay
¶ 7
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Wait with your beauty and wisdom
Wait as the ocean returns
With a patience that echoes like thunder
With a passion that heals as it burns
¶ 8
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A mysterious autumn revealing
The child that has stolen its smile
And clings like a rock to its island
And hangs every hope out to dry
¶ 9
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To sleep like the poppies that slumber
And weep for the dreams of the youth
And hold all of life in their secrets
Whilst death takes its bed at their roots
¶ 10
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And yes you may say I’ve grown bitter
With a heart that’s as dead as a stone
But if truth can take me for a lover
Then at least I will not be alone
¶ 11
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So guide me towards all of reason
And help me believe what I should
And send to the faith that is bleeding
Your laughter, your tears and your love
¶ 12
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For the child that has left can’t return
To the place it can no longer see
But the child that we long to create
Is the child that we all long to be
¶ 13
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For there’s none with the passion and beauty
There’s none with the glory of light
There’s none to unravel the mystery
But oh I will try I will try
¶ 14
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And the language the pours from the chaos
It’s just me with my scars and my flaws
And the wound that refuses its medicine
Just picks at its scabs and its sores
¶ 15
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And there in the dark is a fable
Where love on its knees comes to pray
For the crumbs that fall down from the table
I pray will come falling my way
¶ 16
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But then I see you and your genius
The face and that mouth and those arms
And I race from the world of indifference
Weak from the joy in my heart
¶ 17
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Whilst the dark hides the shadow of clay
What are we if not dust and dirt?
For now we dance as Hungarian gypsies
But to its patient embrace we return
¶ 18
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Oh football the devil we dance with
Whilst money is cleaved oh so well
Yet Anfield you hold me forever
A captive am I in your spell.
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