Tibetan Side Of Town - Bruce Cockburn

Through
rutted winding streets of Kathmandu Dodging
crowded humans cows dogs rickshaws Storefronts
constellated pools of bluewhite Bright
against darkening walls The
butterfly sparkle in my lasered eye Still
seems to hold that last shot of red sun through haze over jumbled roofs Everything
moves like slow fluid in this atmosphere thick as dreams With
sewage incense dust and fever and the smoke of brick kilns and cremations Tom
Kelly's bike rumbles down We're
going drinking on the Tibetan side of town Beggar
with a withered leg sits sideways on a skateboard grinning There's
a joke going on somewhere but we'll never know Those
laughing kids with hungry eyes must be in on it too With
their clinging memories of a culture crushed by Chinese greed Pretty
young mother by the temple gate Covers
her baby's eyes face against diesel fumes That
look of concern you, can see it still Not
yet masked by the hard lines of a woman's struggle to survive Hard
bargains going down When
you're living on the Tibetan side of town Big
red enfield bullet lurches to a halt in the dust Last
blast of engine leaves a ringing in the ears That
fades into the rustle of bare feet and slapping sandals And
the baritone moan of long bronze trumpets muffled by monastery walls Prayer
flags crack like whips in the breeze Sending
to the world - tonight the message blows east Dark
door opens to yellow room and there are these steaming jugs of hot millet Beer
And
I'm sucked into this scene like this liquor up this bamboo straw Sweet
tungba sliding down Drinking
on the Tibetan side of town