At the very moment the wine bottle was being fished out of the water at Buddha Beach by an out of work cyclist, another message was being decoded in a fourth storey lock-down toilet in north Tel Aviv. It read:
The soul of a cat, the song of a bird
The strangest tune ever heard
Taps its feet all the same
We live in heaven, heaven lives in us
In the stars & the dust
Torn apart till we meet again
Woke up this morning in my clothes
Walking down the end of the road
Corner store, the paper hasn’t come
Think I might just keep on going
Across the bridge & over the dunes
Somewhere, I don’t know
The soul of a cat is the song of a bird
The truth is too absurd
But it’s still true
I made some mistakes, maybe too many
This morning I’m not making any
The sea is full, the sky is blue
I must be the luckiest man alive
To love you so, I could die
Lucky the day you we’re born, I’m lucky now
Now there are no more songs to write
When you get this piece of paper I’ll be gone
Just need to walk awhile
