the mirror don't show your best face
morning finds you feeling ill
the cocaine leaves you restless
with too much time to kill
your young years slipping away on the wing
leaving nothing much to show
trying to catch the magic of the moment in the songs you sing
chasing angels in the snow... angels in the snow
...
for every crystal clear evening
there's an empty, aching day
for every teasing taste of heaven
you know you've hell to pay
can't you see you're caught up in the slipstream
slowly going down in the undertow
you're so wrapped up in your 'hip scene'
thinking you're in the know
angels in the snow... angels in the snow...
all in all it's a downhill slide
you know you're losing ground
but you keep going along for the ride
thinking one day you'll come around
you know you're caught up in the slipstream
slowly going down in the undertow
so wrapped up in your 'hip scene'
thinking you're in the know
angels in the snow... angels in the snow...
... well ... this is also a very old song... I remember the very first time I saw 'Peruvian Marching Powder' (as Kinky Friedman might opine) in my little hometown, and over the intervening years, The 'Patch has developed an alarming addiction rate, particularly in the realm of opiates. It scared me then, and terrifies me now. I kept my distance, and watched it take hold of several folks and bring them down, hard. 'Angels in the Snow' being the 'Favourite Game' of Leonard Cohen's first novel, and a seemingly apt metaphor for the lure of cocaine. Maybe I recognized my own addictive tendencies 'way back then; perhaps it was more a matter of the company I chose to keep; but it never gt it's hooks into me; and for that I am truly grateful. I was always leery of substances that had direct connections to blood violence; but then... oil and gasoline make the world go 'round; and there is much blood that has and will yet be shed in our endless hunger for petroleum products.