Fugitive’s Dream Songtext
von Ilan Isakov

There ain′t no rest for flyin' feet
Lemme have what′s left of this fugitive's dream
And my foggy window fantasy

Despite my hopes the sun is back
Turning rust to gold on the old train track
It's time to move my little ass
No time to weep
The time to weep has passed

There′s a guiding light in the changing sky
Prayers go up in straight lines
And August is just a neon sign
It′s mine though, it's mine though — it′s mine


All the ghosts are talking
With their mouths full
And me, I'm watching the turnstiles turn
And grace is god
And god is the only one here with nowhere to turn
In my fugitive′s dream
In my fugitive's dream

Chin up, cheer up, sugarplum
The paper′s sayin' that we've won
Healed the leper, chased the sun
It′s over now, it′s over now — it's done

Mother beneath your gentle braids
Behind the hands that hide your face
The madmen in the marketplace
It′s over now, it's over now — We′re safe

I cheer from bed, still spent from sex
The spiders have all gone to their nests
Finally I get my rest
It's over now, it′s over now
In my fugitive's dream
I'm sneaking off to the choir to sing