If magic = changing consciousness at will, then this song is DEFINITELY magic. Get a chance to listen to it if you can -- the song as a song is much more powerful than these words alone...
TRANSIT, by Richard Shindell, From his album "Somewhere Near Patterson"
The merge from the Turnpike was murder, but it's never a cinch
It was Friday at five and no one was giving an inch
They squeezed and they edged and they glared
Half of them clearly impaired
By rage or exhaustion - the rest were just touchy as hell
Somewhere near Paterson everything slowed down to a crawl
The all-news station was thanking someone for the call
It's a van from St. Agnes' Choir
There's a nun out there changing a tire
By the time they got by her tempers were out of control
They all hit the gas in a dash for position
Bobbing and weaving, flashing their high-beams
Flipping the bird, screaming obscenities
A murderous horde hell-bent on Saturday
And so they continued, westbound and into the sun
Law and decorum constraining nary a one
By then it was devil-may-care
Not one even vaguely aware
That they'd come all the way to the Delaware Water Gap
How had it happened? They had all missed their exits
How had it happened? Was it some kind of vortex
And in they all went, bumper to bumper
Faster and faster, no sign of a trooper
And in they all went like sheep to the slaughter
Bankers and carpenters, doctors and lawyers
And in they all went - families in minivans
Reagan republicans, weekend militiamen
They followed the river and rounded the bend
Between Minsey and Tammany and into their destiny
Lying in ambush right there before them
The angry old sun right on the horizon
Sister Maria tightened the bolts of the spare
She said a quick prayer and put the old van into gear
Thank God the traffic was light
If she hurried she might not be late
For that evening's performance
At the State Penitentiary
She entered the common room - there was her choir
Altos and baritones, basses and tenors
Car-thieves and crack-dealers, mobsters and murderers
Husbands and sons, fathers and brothers
And so it began, in glorious harmony
"Softly and Tenderly" - calling for you and me
With the interstate whining way off in the distance
And the sun going down
Through the bars of the prison
And they poured out their souls
They poured out their memories
They poured out their hopes for what's left of eternity
To Sister Maria, her soul like a prism
For the light of forgiveness on all of their faces…
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