First, and for the benefit of those who have not the lyrics committed to memory:

Well my friend, I can see your face so clearly/
[a] little bit tired, little worn through the years.

You sound nervous, you seem alone/
Hardly recognize your voice on the telephone.

In between, I remember/
Just before we wound up broken down.
Drive out to the edge of the highway/
Follow that lonesome dead-end road-sign sound.

We’re all in this together.
Walkin’ the line, between faith and fear.
And this life, don’t last for ever.
When you cry I taste the salt in your tear.

Well my friend, let’s put this thing together:
Walk the path that worn out feet have trod.

If you want it, we can go on forever.
Give up your jaded ways, and spell your name to God.

We’re all in this together.
Walkin’ the line, between faith and fear.
And this life, don’t last for ever.
When you cry I taste the salt in your tear.

All we are is a picture in a mirror
With fancy shoes to grace our feet.

And all there is, is a slow road to freedom,
With Heaven above and the devil beneath.

We’re all in this together.
Walkin’ the line, between faith and fear.
And this life, don’t last for ever.
When you cry I taste the salt in your tear.


At this point, I would like to call your attention to a few Hellenisms in the text, to wit:

The “in between” of, “in between, I remember” is almost screaming μεταξύ αλεθευω, and the Platonic implications of this, especially following Eric Voegelin’s later development of the metaxy both as a scholarly matter of Platonic exegesis and as a central element of his meta-political speculation, here appears in a thematically relevant way as an expression of transcendent experience, specifically the transcendency of (the memory of) friendship, or the experience of friendship as the ground of transcendence. IN any case, that the drama of the poem is essentially concerned with memory is established beyond reasonable doubt by the statement, “I can see your face so clearly” in the context of a telephonic vocal suggestion. There are also Augustinian elements of the presence of the past, the presence of the present and the presence of the future in the clear image of the face that is “a little bit tired” and “[a] little worn through the years.”

I do not ask you to come all the way, or even part of the way with me on this one, but I cannot help noting that the “slow road” fairly translates μεθ‘ώδος, the hard path, the “method”. Remember that, for Plato, the method is the life of erotic descent and ascent in the filial pursuit of truth through friendship.

The refrain, in light of these two observations, takes on a new relation to the drama of the poem. The refrain is the generalization of experience, or the expression of an experience that is generally available and therefore necessarily to be pursued.

The “picture in a mirror” of the final verse clearly recalls Plato’s cave, but its mode of recollection gives cause for pause. To be a picture in a mirror is to be a reflection of a reproduction of an image. “We,” asserts the poet, are the props and accoutrements placed in the cave to deceive the troglodytes into believing themselves free. There is, here, the possibility for diverse readings. I tend to prefer the very simple, straightforward and entirely unflattering judgment of human nature contained in the simple, straightforward reading of the text as social criticism (let us recall that κρίσις is nothing other than principled judgment). Our refusal to judge our fellows, that is, to be critically engaged with each other, makes true freedom impossible, for it tends to confirm the false and pernicious understanding of liberty as freedom from judgment.

The second verse could be a disjointed epilogue, or it could be that the final verse requires singing because the invitation issued in the second has been rejected. This strikes me as insufficient, though I will not now hazard a reading.