Put yourself into the night, do it, taste the dew hanging sweet as wine, sweet as lover's tears waiting to settle to the earth from a full moon lace veiled in streaming clouds riding half high across a silver black sky... let your eyes fall to the horizon, follow the shadows back to where you stand. Now listen, listen and you'll hear it coming, you'll feel the earth beneath your feet throbbing like the passion of lovers who dare eternity... that sound... is it, is it their cries of passion beyond pain you hear? Or is that wail, is it eternity rejecting their plea? No, no, it can't be... or perhaps it is. Turn, look down the slope behind you. The wailing isn't eternity, no it isn't, but it might as well be. Watch her as she passes, the huge locomotive shattering the silence of the night with the roar and that wail set to the beat of eight wheels driven and feel that ache in your heart wishing you were aboard the midnight special stroking it out into the abandoned night... her destination, your destination? Anywhere, anywhere but where they are, where you once were... look back at the moon, and wish the wayward wind would hear your plea.
But for this song... for this song just close your eyes and listen. He's singing it for all of us, really... they do call the wind Maria ...
Tomorrow this will be me, but not tonight, not quite yet... not...quite... yet.
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