(© Words and music by Paul F. Cowlan)
After the invasion of Afghanistan in 2002 naïveté, of any kind, became less easy to sustain. ‘Doves of peace and dogs of war’ and all the other fatuous propaganda; like it or not, we’re all ‘in deep’.
She’s a lover in the dark;
runs her fingers round the walls
for a whisper or a warming spark.
It’s a lonely call.
Kept awake by a midnight screamer,
roadworks right outside the door,
the moon like a skull at the window gleams,
and the Devil’s beneath the floor.
Here’s another lover with the curtains drawn.
Frozen anger robs him blind.
He pours out pity and hate and scorn
on any love he finds.
No harmony of dreamers,
no meeting of the minds.
He’s says that’s cool, but what he means is
he’s out of time
with love, love, love, love, love.
One world, and the state of the nation,.
Doves of peace and dogs of war.
Freedom, justice, truth and patience,
and a whole lot more.
Dark thoughts and misconceptions,
dark dreams and racial hate,
Chosen People, Divine Exceptions,
Hungry lovers in the hungry dark,
Holy saints and sinners too.
Broken dreams and broken hearts,
keep coming through.
Tell me, is this night too deep for dreaming?
How long till break of day?
Is it how things are? Or how they seem?
And does it have to be this way?
Tell me, Love, love, love, love, love.
Lovers in the dark. (repeat)