The Brightening

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Garnet Mine

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Jackson sits there on the square
The one that bears his name
And every day you pass him by
He's begging for your change
He could have been a dancer
He could have played guitar
He could have been a painter
It don't look very hard
He won't go back
The children find him frightening
Close his eyes, it all goes black
He's waiting for the brightening

Bridget hands out pamphlets
While you order your beignets
You try to feign some interest while
She's begging you to change
She could have been a dancer
She could have played guitar
She could have been a painter
It don't look very hard
She heard a crack
When there's thunder, there is lightning
Close her eyes, it all goes black
She's waiting for the brightening

The bishop in old St. Louis
Is doing much the same
He stands up at his pulpit
Every day he's begging for your change
He could have been a dancer
He could have played guitar
He could have been a painter
It don't look very hard
Behind his back
His senses are heightening
Close his eyes, it all goes black
He's waiting for the brightening

Jackson stole the dancer's money
Bridget took the man's guitar
The bishop got the painter's profits in
Sunday's collection jar
They'll all be back
While their belts continue tightening
Close their eyes, it all goes black
They're waiting for the brightening

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