Jane it sure looks like rain

These Canadian plains

And their windblown hair

Jane the bruise colored clouds

The smell of the ground

In the ripening air



I have seen you

In your fluttering dress

And your dry face of steel

As you're dragging your red rowing boat

Cross the forever fields



See Jane something's gone dead

Inside my head

There's nothing but fear

Jane the rivers of grief

The tears of relief

Seem ages from here



Sometimes the beauty of life

Hits like lightening washing everything

clear

And these dimmers of doubt flicker

Fade out and disappear



But Jane that is a luxury

There are those of little faith it seems

And they beg for truth like charity

And I see them on every street corner



They are holding out one righteous hand

While the other leads the marching band

In the shadow hymn of the scratchman

Heed the message, kill the messenger



Jane I heard you found love

Wriggling up from the mud

On the shores of Granville

But Jane in the wink of an eye

The naysayers fly

Like hounds at your heels



Jane they'll whisper your name

And you won't feel the chains

And you won't see the moss

Oh, Jane there's an art to the game

The aesthetics of love

The athletics of loss



Sometimes someone drifts by

And our nets get entwined in the sea

And in time I might find

They still mean something to me



But Jane that is a luxury

There are those of little faith in me

And they pull me down like gravity

And I see them on every street corner



They are masters in the sleight of hand

They are dancers and they step so grand

To the shibboleth of Shadowland

Heed the message, kill the messenger