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One and one half wandering Jews,
Free to wander wherever they choose,
Are travelling together in the Sangre de Christo,
The blood of Christ mountains over Mexico,
On the last leg of a journey they started a long time ago,
The arc of a love affair,
Rainbows in the high desert air.
--
Hearts and Bones

 

Paul Simon

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Why are there so many songs about rainbows
And what's on the other side?
Rainbows are visions, but only illusions,
And rainbows have nothing to hide.
So we've been told and some choose to believe it
I know they're wrong, wait and see.
Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection,
The lovers, the dreamers and me.

 

Paul Williams

 

When we are inclined to boast of our position [as Christians] we should remember that we are but Gentiles, while the Jews are of the lineage of Christ. We are aliens and in-laws; they are blood relatives, cousins, and brothers of our Lord. Therefore, if one is to boast of flesh and blood the Jews are actually nearer to Christ than we are.

 

Martin Luther

 

You waste the attention of your eyes,
the glittering labour of your hands,
and knead the dough enough for dozens of loaves
of which you'll taste not a morsel;
you are free to slave for others—
you are free to make the rich richer.
The moment you're born
they plant around you
mills that grind lies
lies to last you a lifetime.
You keep thinking in your great freedom
a finger on your temple
free to have a free conscience.
Your head bent as if half-cut from the nape,
your arms long, hanging,
your saunter about in your great freedom:
you're free
with the freedom of being unemployed.
You love your country
as the nearest, most precious thing to you.
But one day, for example,
they may endorse it over to America,
and you, too, with your great freedom—
you have the freedom to become an air-base.
You may proclaim that one must live
not as a tool, a number or a link
but as a human being—
then at once they handcuff your wrists.
You are free to be arrested, imprisoned
and even hanged.
There's neither an iron, wooden
nor a tulle curtain
in your life;
there's no need to choose freedom:
you are free.
But this kind of freedom
is a sad affair under the stars.

 

Nazim Hikmet

 

Our paths have crossed and parted,
This love affair was started
Long, long ago.
This love survives the ages
In its story lives are pages
Fill them up, may ours turn slow.

 

Paul Williams

 

Come, take my hand
And wander in the willow river
Glistening the blue bells
Come, take my flesh
And wander in the sunny corn
That shimmer stills at snowfalls
'Cause I love you lover
I love you, like I love
The Four high Seasons.

 

Mike Oldfield