Peter Hammill

You're helpless, entranced by the magical
touch of her skin against yours, adrift ?
what else is there but this?
It feels so sweet
to fall asleep
beside the one you love.

Remember this fireside, this quiet room,
embers now flickering their last, like ghosts
and still she holds you close.
Who else could know
such afterglow
beside the one you love?

Someday the memory will come again
as vivid as sensation now and then
there'll be no "why?" or "when?".
Who else could do
these things to you
beside the one you love?

It feels so sweet
to fall asleep
beside the one you love.

Behind the smile of confidence
somewhere you'll find the wanted man
blank-faced and wary of conversation with himself.
Around the ring of confidence
they're dancing to a different tune;
the others seem so confident,
why don't you take a leaf from the storm we're passing through?
In confidence we sail across the seven seas
to hide behind the veil ? in confidence the key!
"I'm in good form, I'm feeling fine,"
responsibly how well you do ?
there's nothing I can say about
the usual cocktail of public faith and private taboo.
In confidence the trick is there for all to see ?
In confidence the key!

Oh, don't anyone let the cat out of the bag,
don't anyone admit to human frailty.
Someone let the cat out of the bag.
Confidentially we learn we're not alone,
in lack of confidence we're not alone,
in lack of confidence we're not alone.

Behind the smile of confidence
somewhere you'll find the mortal man
waving his arms in some urgent secret semaphore...
So I'll face the world with confidence,
I'll toughen up my point of view,
what better way to live a life,
what other way can there be of seeing this thing through?
In confidence the trick, in confidence the game,
the thing that makes us tick ?
in confidence the flame!

Inside the ring of confidence
somewhere you'll find a stone-age man
lost in the forest with darkness falling,
striking his flint to hold back
the roaring, the alien, the world.

We are not alone.

Memory extends its empire,
holds the frame but blurs the line.
Some other time invades the sense,
a moment caught and lost, second sight.

Suddenly I feel you near me,
worlds away and close as this.
One stolen kiss upon my lips
and the moment slips away in mid-flight.

So many years ago, and now it's hard
to recall just what you meant to me.
Still I wait, I'm patient,
for the memory comes to me eventually.
Here you are, and though you may soon be gone
somehow the song still burns as bright.
I felt it happen here tonight ?
here, in the empire of delight.

Dream and ghost the world around me,
you seem as real as ever you were...
but in a blur your breath on my cheek
has gone and the evening come into night.

So many years ago, and now it's hard
to recall quite what you meant to me.
Still I wait, impatient,
though the memory comes to me eventually.
Here I am, forever caught up in this mystery
and then,
that moment when the fire ignites ?
I felt it happen here tonight,
here, in the empire of delight.

Each moment is precious
those that I spend with you are a prize ?
I count myself lucky just being alive
while you're in my eyes.

Seeing's believing and I believe in you
I can't conceal it, just what I feel for you.
Seeing's believing, I know that you'll see me through.
I believe in you
I have faith in you
I put my faith in you.

Doubt casts its shadow
on every perfect plan that is made
but I'll be beside you through those dark days ?
I'll be with you come what may.

Seeing's believing and I believe in you
I can't conceal it, just what I feel for you.
Seeing's believing, I know that you'll see me through.
I believe in you
I have faith in you
I put my faith in you.

Don't let me down,
now that I've fallen completely for you.

You lay your plans, I take them as they come,
I understand: we dance to different drums.
It's not in any schoolbook,
you're here to teach a lesson to us all...
we play by different rule-books.
What you say, what you do,
they're such different things, which is true?
Now the telephone rings, Mephistopheles calling...
Forty pieces for each lie you've told
I hope your linings as they all unfold are silver.

Once we were friends in our idealist days,
still, let's pretend, it's funny in a way
that now our friendship's token
you like to say I owe you everything ?
some debts remain unspoken.
Double talk, double standards,
you speak with two tongues, truth's abandoned,
all life has become one-way traffic to lucre.
You take your meetings on the cloth of gold,
just down the river from the lives you've sold for silver.

The silver crossed your palm,
oh, can you see the future?
I hope you'll know when you sold your soul.
Argente, argent.

All the things you've done will carry their own taint
and a day will come when you chorus the complaint
that your friends don't do you fairly;
the back you turned, the shoulders that you shrugged
now fit the blame quite squarely.
What you want, what you need,
your emotional greed all-consuming
but no hearts will bleed and the coffers are empty.
Yes, in the end you'd give it all away,
but on the sockets of your eyes they lay the silver.

Sleep now:
another day in your young lives is done,
go to sleep now.
Tomorrow brave new worlds will surely come,
and trouble deep;
you're such a wonder, such a mystery to me.

Somewhere
your future friends are lying as you are
and your lovers
right now are only crying babes in arms
oh, the world turns under our feet,
our lives are passing by
in our sleep.

So soon you'll be gone to that wide world ?
the tunes of adulthood calling little girls.

Remember,
whatever else in life you find to doubt,
do remember,
although you hear him mostly in a shout,
your father loves you
as though he never knew the meaning of the words
until just now.

So soon you'll be gone to that wide world.
One tune of childhood I sing my little girls...

Sleep now,
one day I'll tell you how my life has been.
Oh, so strange
to think your eyes will fall on things
that mine have never seen,
these eyes that gently flicker
in some lost childhood dream.

Sleep now,
safe and warm in the haven of your bed,
go to sleep now...
Although you won't remember what I've said,
your father loves you
as though he never knew the meaning of the words
until just now,
as though he never knew the meaning of the words
until just now.

So many years ago, I thought you were the one ?
who knows when people change, surrender into strangeness,
adrift upon their lives, encompassed by the past?
Who knows which one becomes the last goodbye?
Don't try to tell me nothing dies.
Don't try to tell me nothing's changed,
don't try to tell me nothing's new,
too many of my yesterdays belong to you.

I shelved my broken heart, I put you from my mind,
I got up from my knees, I picked up all my pieces,
but seeing you again puts shakes into my soul.
Just when I think I'm finally over you,
don't come and show me that's not true.

Tell me about it, talk to me ?
I hear it coming, I feel it coming,
the way you want this thing to be.
You're only trading on our memories
don't go and say you still love me.

You're trading on my memories,
you're trading in a rosy past;
you know I'm lost on stormy seas...
but I still stand before the mast,
beneath the stars and under sail
towards horizons out of true...
Behind the dance of seven veils I still see you...

Tell me about it, have your way;
I see it coming, I hear it coming,
I know what you're about to say.
You've had too many of my yesterdays,
and I don't want to fall again.

Don't try to tell me nothing's changed,
don't try to tell me nothing's new,
too many of my yesterdays are lost in you.

He made a bit of money,
that's something you might like to know...
He'll be drinking in the cafe on the corner
after the show.

He's been so many people,
he wore them all like poisoned vests,
still playing the soliloquy from Hamlet
close to his chest.

Where do the actors go after the show?
Where do the actors go?

He had his hour of glory,
that's something you should keep in mind...
When he's drinking in the cafe on the corner
there's no sense of time,
just waiting on for Godot,
convinced he's been here years before...
he's taken that philosophy in German
square on the jaw.

Where do the actors go after the show?
Where do the actors go?

He made a bit of money,
that's something you might like to know;
he'll be drinking in the cafe on the corner
after the show.

Where do the actors go after the show?
Where do the actors go?

All the words in the world
wouldn't make you stay this evening;
though I scrabble around for any I can say,
so hard to take our leave,
so hard to stop believing.

I guess we know this silence well enough,
and you'll be going by and by;
I'm scared that anything I offer
might be taken for a lie.

All said and done,
and there's no way to make it any different.
I hold my tongue as you're walking away.
So goodbye comes ?
oh, I don't want to make it difficult
but nothing's easy when there's nothing left to say.

Now we only talk as though time were heavy weather
with a storm-cloud brewing on each hasty phrase...
all the words in the world wouldn't put us back together.

Maybe we had our opportunities...
most of those chances passed us by;
I'm scared that anything I offer
might be taken as a bribe.

All said and done,
and there's no way to make it any different.
I hold my tongue as you're walking away.
So goodbye comes ?
oh, I don't want to make it difficult
but nothing's easy when there's nothing left to say.

In the here and now...
Between sensation at the nerve-ends
and arrival of information at the cortex
time elapses.
So, you see, each time we touch
we did so in the past.

Now, lover,
slicing through time in a perfect curve,
due for a moment of energy;
somehow we'll get what we most deserve
in the here and now.

In the here and now,
although completely different people
in the moments before and after having sex,
we are time-locked.
Cracked, forgotten statues, we are strangled in the undergrowth,
lost in ancient magic, we are motion, we are wonderful flow.
We are time-locked,
unknowing of the code,
but addicted to the pulse.

Now, lover,
melt in the crucible, flesh and blood
bodies consumed by the catalyst.
Somehow we'll raise our sights from the mud,
we are always now,
we are Always Now!

If we were always here and now,
instead of slightly, now and then...
so immaterial, so lost, embracing all the grace
that comes before the fall.

If we were always here and now,
electric shiver in the spine,
how could we turn away, see life as grey and drab?
How come we don't see what we have?

If we were always here and now,
soul to soul and skin to skin...
Is it some kind of make-believe,
is it some kind of dream we're in,
with a mint copy of original sin?

In the here and now,
between sensation at the nerve-ends
and the arrival of information at the cortex
time elapses.

Cracked, forgotten statues, we are strangled in the undergrowth;
lying on the mattress of the magic and the wonderful,
nothing really matters as we're sucked in by the undertow...
We are Motion, we are Feeling, we are Now!

Although completely different people
in the moments before and after having sex
we are time-locked, we are time-locked...
Though we know each time we touch
we did so in the past.

Now come on, come on, lover,
slicing through time in a perfect curve,
due for a moment of energy...
somehow we'll get what we most deserve
in the here and now.
Melt in the crucible, flesh and blood
bodies consumed by the catalyst,
surrender to nothing, welcome the flood
of the here and now.
Slicing through time in a perfect curve,
due for a moment of energy,
somehow we'll get what we most deserve;
melt in the crucible, flesh and blood
bodies, consumed by the catalyst,
surrender to nothing,
nip the thought in the bud.
We are always now,
We are Always Now!

If we were always here and now...

It's not that complicated,
no more than a clench of fist ?
she want to paint her heart out,
she want to tell it as she sees it is.
Authority condemns her,
they say to paint's a waste without a base,
some bedrock of idea.

Painting by numbers doesn't add up,
Painting by numbers doesn't add up,
it's passionless bed-rest,
work-body that's headless,
a head that's without heart ?
painting by numbers doesn't add up to art.

Her constant vows mean nothing,
not content alone that sells ?
The Market Theory beckons,
no-one remembers what the story tells;
no-one remembers passion,
we just recite the line
that art is fine and fashion costly.

Painting by numbers doesn't add up;
safety in numbers, put your hands up
in mute surrender...
they'll break her or bend her
for the heart on her sleeve.
Painting by numbers all the modern world believes.

And the whole thing falls apart
when the movement's more important than the art;
when we're more concerned
with what's been thought than said
this is the moment when the culture's dead.

It's not that complicated,
it's simple as can be:
she want to paint her heart out,
they want a programme for the BBC
where academic critics can talk of art that's fine
like holy wine ? the Blessed Intellectuals!

Painting by numbers, safety in numbers...
The poets from Venus assume that they've seen us ?
they're quick to depart.
Painting by numbers doesn't add up to art.

Turn a card, turn a page,
the action sure to start,
second-stage reaction
to illogical thoughts on random lines ?
in a Borges dream we move toward
the writing of lives.

Leave it out, leave it in, no edits ?
with a shout, with a grin I said
it was a certainty that I'd arrive
in an Escher sketch
we walk around the drawing of lines.

The character uncertainty
as he contemplates his lot
and tries to move with urgency
though he's rooted to the spot.

On the brink, on the edge,
but lately what I think,
what I said escapes me
in a flash, a tiger burning bright ?
does the visionary trance obscure
the burgeoning night?

And she said "What are you doing?"
And he said "What do you think?"
Oh, no, what on earth are we doing?

The characters procrastinate
on the threshold of the door;
there's something here that fascinates,
though the meaning's still unsure
and the plot so thick.
Is it some kind of history?
Sketch the thumbnail to the quick.
Oh, even though it's full of contradiction,
though it's flawed in the design
this is no fiction,
it's a lifeline.

Here we are, there we went, full circle,
shooting stars, heaven-sent,
turned turtle on the beach
our shells are left behind
life a library, like a memory
of our ghost-written lives.

There's a shiver down the spine of the body map...
how come everything gets so physical?
With your finger on the pulse
and your head in the clouds
everything's so tactile
in your private world,
in your little world.

Under the skin you search for paradise,
under the skin some kind of parasite remains concealed.
Under the skin a true identity, a memory
will soon be revealed, under the skin.

Hit that button, no time to lose ?
everything's so immediate.
You'd have it all right now
if you got to choose
in your private world,
such a tiny world.

Under the skin you search for paradise,
under the skin some kind of parasite remains concealed.
Under the skin a true identity, a memory
will soon be revealed, under the skin.

Is something out to get you under the skin?
Full of the promise of paradise?
Paradise now?

Everything gets so physical,
everything's so immediate
in your private world,
such a tiny world.

Under the skin you search for paradise,
under the skin some kind of parasite remains concealed.
Under the skin a true identity, a memory
will soon be revealed, under the skin.

Does something get to you
under the skin?

There was something in the conversation,
ancient languages were breaking through;
I was falling for infatuation ?
how about you?

You say it's nothing special,
that's just the way it is...
you hit me where I live.

Though I drink the cup it leaves me thirsting ?
what on earth am I supposed to do?
When I try to speak I find my
bursting heart full of you.

You say it's only natural,
you say forget and forgive...
you hit me where I live.

I was once the man who felt no passion;
I was nothing till I fell for you.
You're a duelist in your own fashion,
eyes that run me through.

You say that it's a mixed blessing,
but I should take the gift you give...
you hit me where I live.

The visitors find the children gone from school:
Aged relations sling their guns across the desks...
There'll be no break-time for them unless
They talk about tomorrow
As though it's already on its way.
Amen, oh yes, they're
Waiting for the breakthrough in time.
The visitors hide no aces up their sleeves
And the classroom pulses to many different drums.
If only a breakthrough in time would come
There'd be some chance for the visited ones.
We could talk about tomorrow
As though we believed in that.
We could talk about it right now,
And it would come as a shock
To feel the fingernail grow on the trigger finger -
Still the visitors clock us
Waiting for the breakthrough,
Waiting for the breakthrough
With time on our hands.
(It's there all the time.)

I found myself lying on the balcony,
Stripling terror, naked to the bone;
The secret asteroid jungle nearly done for me -
I saw it all just a moment ago.
I know I'd better watch out
For the Central Hotel...
I'm not going back.
Repetition, superstition, singularity,
Though every cell in the body has changed
The walls move in well-accustomed hilarity -
The circuit changes,
But the joke stays the same.
I know I'd better watch out
For the Central Hotel
I think I'd better get out,
I'm not feeling so well.
And I won't be going back,
Not if I can help it.
I can't help it, I can't help it
If I still am what I was;
I can't help it, I can't help it,
Can't stop the therefore because
I can't help it.
The grace of god shows I'll be going on,
I'll be coming back.
I know nothing of the miles of the marathon,
I hear nothing of the footfall behind,
I search for rhythm and I find that I haven't one
Slow motion in the runner's mind.
I know I'd better watch out
For the Central Hotel
I think I'd better get out,
I'm not feeling so well
I know I'd better check out,
But anyone here can tell
I'll be coming back, I'll be back.
I'm the Central Hotel

She's here now, perfume coiled like a thuggie scarf ?
such a powerful drug to make you so naked and clean.
And you want to tell her
so much to disclose
this idea you've got to sell her
a new set of empress's clothes.

Who was that woman in the masquerade,
do those eyes still give you fever?
Who was that woman in the mystery-play,
do you still want to please her?
Where is the woman who can offer escape,
do you look for your freedom?
You see her and you want to tell her
so much to disclose
this idea you've got to sell her.

You want her to wear that finery,
the style that's never seen,
you're trying to break the deadlock
of this strangleholding scene...
oh, look, a new set of empress's clothes!

The here and now stands in your way;
you carry the bell, book and candle...
she won't make you go
but she won't let you stay
and you want to tell her
so much to disclose
this idea you've got to sell her
a new set of empress's clothes.

You want her to wear that finery,
the style that's never seen;
(And you want to tell her)
You're trying to break the deadlock
of this strangleholding scene;
(There's so much to disclose)
she makes you want to confess it all ?
you don't know what it means,
but she makes you see
Empress's clothes.
Empress's clothes.
A new set of empress's clothes.
A new set of empress's clothes.
She makes you see empress's clothes.
She makes you see empress's clothes.
(repeat to fade)

Halfway between the zoo
and the temple of your Art...
but what do you do
with this motion of the heart?
Who'll be looking for you
when it all falls apart?

Oh, but what do you do,
and where do you start
when people are the glue,
when it all falls apart?

Oh, but what do you do,
and where do you start
when people are the glue,
when it all falls apart,
when it all falls apart,
when it all falls apart?

This is no time to hesitate,
the line slips into overload;
the mixture too thick,
the touch too close to the motherlode.

Time ? there's so little time
to do anything that's not useless...
you tried for a little while
to hide your face from the future.
Now you thought it was released,
you find that it's captured,
it sticks to your hand, you can't let it go.
What you knew as pain has turned into rapture,
but nothing goes away, it just changes...
you know it's the right tempo, the right place,
but something's gone wrong with the cardiograph.
Oh, your day shadow and your night face,
you thought it was forever ? but it doesn't last.

This is no time to hesitate,
it's no time to look for another road;
the shiver begins,
the touch too cold on the motherlode.
This is no time for hesitation,
hesitation, hesitation, hesitation.

Time, there's so little time
to do away with the tension;
I try for a little while
to put it all in suspension.
Well I thought I was released,
I find that I'm captured,
the groove sticks, it won't let me go.
The glass stain is now seen as fractured
and try as I may I can't change,
but I know it's the wrong tempo, wrong place
and something's gone wrong with the autograph
Oh, the day shadow and the night face
conspire into prophecy...
This is no time for hesitation.
Oh, this is no time for hesitation.
Oh, this is no time for hesitation.
Oh, this is no time for hesitation, oh no.
Yeah, this is no time for hesitation,
oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no...

It was nothing, it came from nowhere at all, it was a casual remark,
Not a curtain-call.
Late for breakfast - black coffee, brandy-laced...
That look on your face.
I'll remember last night; I'll look out for the signs;
You were caught in the light
Ref.
Time after time
It's been my experience that when the row gets serious
A certain silence will fall...
But I just can't stop it, why don't you tell me what's wrong?
My heart goes like a rocket, the feeling's so strong.
I just can't stop it, why don't
You tell me what's wrong?
Don't think about it too long.
I could argue this another way, but on another day I might have to shout.
You keep your mouth shut, but it's too late for that now:
The word got out.
In translation it's lost, in desperation it's mimed;
Is this Paradise lost, or Paradise time after time?
Ref.

That token drag on your cigarette,
That well-known face in the fire,
It could be someone you can't forget,
Someone you've learnt to admire.
And it's strange
How the feeling goes;
All change -
Down the river Ophelia goes.
You're treading water, the price is steep,
You say you'll cope with it all;
You've made some promises you can't keep,
You throw yourself against the wall,
You throw yourself against the wall.
And it's strange...
You heard a noise in the firegrate,
You look to see who goes there -
It's just the stranger, he's come too late
And even he's unprepared
To find the cupboard so bare
And it's strange...
Down the river Ophelia goes.

Wrong drink to order.
Suspicion grows,
Wrong situation...
Oh, no-one knows where you've gone to
In the pagan night
And the neon reflections
Spread cadmium white.
You came here looking for something
But this wasn't it, quite.
Hey, take a Polaroid, exit,
And well you might.
Sign the picture, get out of the frame;
Sign the picture, and throw it away.
Sign the picture, sign the picture,
Throw the picture away.
Now she turns her attention
And her camera on you:
This could be all of the moments
That you'll ever live through,
Oh, but your heart beats the rhythm
Of primeval tattoo...
I hear you make your excuses
As you usually do.
Sign the picture, get out of the frame;
Sign the picture, and throw it away;
Sign the picture, sign the picture,
Throw the picture away...
Although it's going to come back.
You've got a certain knack
Of making of such things
Auspicious signs.

We can talk about it in the car;
We can talk about it with the drive.
Keep your eyes on the road up ahead,
(Don't forget what we said about)
Staying alive.
If we'd been stuck just a few hours more
I'd have cracked up, I'd say.
No you never can tell when it's coming;
It's so hard getting out of the way;
To be sitting targets is surely
No better than running away...
Sitting targets in the car
I'll be thinking about it;
Not so far, no so far to drive.
Ooh, this time we made our getaway,
We'd been stalling for too long.
Keep your eyes on the road up ahead
While I try to forget what's been going wrong
(What's been going on...)
You'd better check up on the CB,
See what Tail - End Charlie say -
"Oh you never can tell how it's going,
No you never can see how it's been,
But to stay sitting targets is surely
No better than living a dream."
Sitting targets in the car
I've been thinking it over,
It's not so far, not so far to drive.
In the car...
We can talk about it in the car,
Surely we can talk about it some other time.
Keep your eyes on the road up ahead -
I don't seem to be able to use mine
And I'm losing control of my body
And I'm running scared...
Oh, we're left with a black-and-white movie,
A positional state of affairs,
An obsessional interest in moving
Just to prove that we're there,
Sitting targets in the car.
I'll be thinking about it, not so far to drive
Sitting targets in the car,
I've been thinking it over, it's
Not so far, not so far,
Not too far to drive.

Stranger still in another town,
How normal to sit out the dance,
Eating the good meal by myself,
Toasting the empty glass;
And they're already setting out
The next place,
Already forgetting about the last.
No, nothing could be less strange
In entropy
No change, no change, no change.
No danger in a normal life,
Better steady down the adrenalin pump.
Excess refraction in the mirror
Only leads to the quantum jump
Oh, but it leaves me in limbo;
How strange, what a stranger I become.
No, no, nothing could be less strange
In entropy
No change, no change, no change.
No, I know how to behave
In the restaurant now,
I don't tear at the meat with my hands;
If I've become a man of the world somehow
That's not necessarily to say
I'm a worldly man.
Keep on shuffling the menu
And the order never comes on time.
No, there's only diffraction patterns,
No reading between the lines;
Only the rate of emission,
And reason allows no rime.
Nothing could be less strange
In entropy
No change, no change, no change.
No, nothing could be less strange...
Entropy...
... A stranger, a worldly man.

A pretty pass in the rear-view mirror,
it's coming on the overtake...
I've got to stop panicking, got to stay cool,
got to learn to live with my mistakes.
Overdue debt to the taxman,
I tried to have and eat my cake.

I think I must have been crazy in retrospect;
all the lines run together
but they just don't seem to connect.
I think I must have been crazy
to do all the things I did...
try to keep the pot on a gentle simmer,
but something blows off the lid.

I want to update my memory,
I want to rewrite my past...
Ooh, now I found out: no chance.

I think I must have been crazy
(Crazy, crazy, crazy, crazy, yeah)
to do the stuff I did.
I think I must have been crazy, crazy, crazy.
(Crazy, crazy, crazy, crazy, yeah)
to do the stuff I did.
I think I must have been crazy, crazy, crazy...

I think I must have been crazy
but that's the price we pay ?
every lucky throw of the dice
will come back to us one of these days.

I want to update my memory,
I want to rewrite my past,
I don't like what it's telling me,
it all floods back so fast;
I guess I was my own worst enemy,
now I've come to a pretty pass.
A pretty pass, a pretty pass,
there's nothing pretty in the past.

I think I must have been crazy
(Crazy, crazy, crazy, crazy, yeah)
to do the stuff I did.
I think I must have been crazy, crazy, crazy...
Crazy to do what I did.

We play games and every move
is noted down as a subsequent cause
and effectively chains our freedom and will to live;
we settle in to simple survival,
hanging on our pleasures grimly...
we must never let them go.

Our prison walls are slowly built,
stone by stone and day by day;
no provision for escape,
entombed alive in safety
and decay.

Time sets around us in killing frames,
black border round our names.
Our fingers lose their grip
and the torch slips.

The enemy for everyone
is everyone, inside.
I feel the hand of security
creep on me with ice-cold fingers
and crush my flower of freedom;
I've lost the course of my adventure,
all the things I'd meant to do are lost.

There is only one flame each
to keep alive in the wind.
But finally we snuff them out
all by ourselves.

We set traps and, in the end,
fall into our own snares
and have nowhere to go.

Time ever moves more slowly;
life gets more lonely
and less real.

My friends, I never really thought you'd go,
but, then, we know that's the way it happens here.
Now time is like cat's cradle in my hands:
I gather up the strands much too slowly.

The refugees are gone...they take their separate paths,
obliterate the past, figures in an ash shroud.
Susie, I guess you're on your way to be a star,
but I don't know where you are;
the only time I seem to see you is on the TV
It's so easy just to slip away....

Mike!
It's a year or two since I've seen you....
I might have dropped you a line
if I'd had time
or the will.

It's my fault too: I play a hermit's role
of cars and stages, wages, supersoul,
hardly ever seem to get outside these days.
So, dear friends, as we grow on we feel to grow away,
can only live in the hope that some day
it will all return.
It's so easy to slip away....

My friends, I never really thought you'd go,
but, then, we know that's the way it happens here.
Now time is like cat's cradle in my hands:
I gather up the strands much too slowly.

The refugees are gone...they take their separate paths,
obliterate the past, figures in an ash shroud.
Susie, I guess you're on your way to be a star,
but I don't know where you are;
the only time I seem to see you is on the TV
It's so easy just to slip away....

Mike!
It's a year or two since I've seen you....
I might have dropped you a line
if I'd had time
or the will.

It's my fault too: I play a hermit's role
of cars and stages, wages, supersoul,
hardly ever seem to get outside these days.
So, dear friends, as we grow on we feel to grow away,
can only live in the hope that some day
it will all return.
It's so easy to slip away....

Mannheim: rainy Saturday with no money nor friend...
only Tequila can end the boredom.
Try to reach London for a pocket of hope;
we're children, we grope in the dark.
Hugh spends his last Mark on coffee and cheese...
I feel just like a refugee....
Rathaus-keepers and traffic police,
middle-aged maids with rotting teeth,
industrial magazines and old Sunday Times:
reading material/bleeding lines.
What are we doing here?

Memorial menace, eager for revenge,
has begun to bend our minds.
Shower-curtain imperative in the presence of acid;
now, feeling placid is death.
I try to hold my breath as the P.A. comes down....
here we all are in Ktown!
The Big Wheel never fails to grind around...
it drags me up/it drugs me down.
Seven senses wonder 'Can this be real,
Or am I become a performing seal?'
Why are we dying here?

I walk the streets alone, try to find a sign of love.
I've crushed the plaster-bone in the freaky clubs.
I have bit the fruit
but all I live for is to play
and I'm tired of the nights and the days
of airports, taxis and motorway showers,
groping for a key in the afterhours.
David takes to travelling in the van,
he knows that we all can understand:
we're at the mercy of the Kosmos tour,
making a pilgrimage to the German Lourdes...
but we're still crippled here.

Cathedrals spiral skywards; I think I'm getting vertigo.
I think I don't know what is real.
One more sudden spotlight; one more madness is over;
I must not show a sign of fear.
Words echo round my ears, I think I'm going to laugh...
think I'll just go and take a bath, guess I'll wash my clothes,
don't you know I'll grow to go and make my name,
maybe be a servant in the Famegame;
stake my sane and rest my life on the line....
Now lay me asunder and rend my mind;
at the fall of the curtain let this be my ghost.

I promise you, I won't leave a clue:
no tell-tale remark, no print from my shoe.
Still, a steady trail to the water's edge...
I will keep my pledge to the end:
I intend to go free.

No more rushing around, no more travelling chess;
I guess I'd better sit down, you know I do need the rest....
Yes, it's time to resign with equanimity and placidity
from the game.
I can't explain;
I can't relate....
Have I done it all too late?

Now is the time for the commission to report;
till lately, I thought I'd been planted.
Trying hard to make it all come real,
permission to feel is ungranted.
But now it's happening I'd like to keep it private if I can;
last words, last looks, make a final stand.
Now my number's come up on the Pools,
I guess I'll board the Titanic for a cruise....

Now is the time to make my status clear,
too late, I fear, and lonely,
as friends and enemies traverse the stage;
all in a rage disown me.
And all the pit-props shatter into dust about my ears:
memory and conscience, hope and fear.
As I crawl out further on the limb
something tells me I am crawling
in to unknown prophecies and lives
the rainbow's end is hemmed around with knives....

As I stand on the boards and the stage lights grow dim,
shall I go out of doors, or shall I maybe go in?
Have I reached the point when I should take my cue
and follow you and your signs?
I can't remember my lines
as the prompter cat-calls
and the cards all fall
in the strike.

All the pages are thin, all the corners are curled.
Does the starshine fall in through my window on the world?
Or am I living out (the seeds of doubt) a chronicle of revenge?
The willow bends
as do my hands;
do you understand?
And will you still be my friend in the end?

When my mouth falls slack
and I can't summon up another tune,
shall I then look back and say
I did it all
too soon?

I promise you, I won't leave a clue:
no tell-tale remark, no print from my shoe.
Still, a steady trail to the water's edge...
I will keep my pledge to the end:
I intend to go free.

No more rushing around, no more travelling chess;
I guess I'd better sit down, you know I do need the rest....
Yes, it's time to resign with equanimity and placidity
from the game.
I can't explain;
I can't relate....
Have I done it all too late?

Now is the time for the commission to report;
till lately, I thought I'd been planted.
Trying hard to make it all come real,
permission to feel is ungranted.
But now it's happening I'd like to keep it private if I can;
last words, last looks, make a final stand.
Now my number's come up on the Pools,
I guess I'll board the Titanic for a cruise....

Now is the time to make my status clear,
too late, I fear, and lonely,
as friends and enemies traverse the stage;
all in a rage disown me.
And all the pit-props shatter into dust about my ears:
memory and conscience, hope and fear.
As I crawl out further on the limb
something tells me I am crawling
in to unknown prophecies and lives
the rainbow's end is hemmed around with knives....

As I stand on the boards and the stage lights grow dim,
shall I go out of doors, or shall I maybe go in?
Have I reached the point when I should take my cue
and follow you and your signs?
I can't remember my lines
as the prompter cat-calls
and the cards all fall
in the strike.

All the pages are thin, all the corners are curled.
Does the starshine fall in through my window on the world?
Or am I living out (the seeds of doubt) a chronicle of revenge?
The willow bends
as do my hands;
do you understand?
And will you still be my friend in the end?

When my mouth falls slack
and I can't summon up another tune,
shall I then look back and say
I did it all
too soon?

Watch for the silent moments, only waiting to be saved.
Wait for the Liemaker; he comes again
And sinks his barbs through honesty;
Roll him over with all possible speed!
Don't let him touch you with the candle of his need
Or let him be, hysterically ravaging your grave.
You are emotion picture, re-run at single frame.
You are the instant playback, no chance to change;
Smile and smile, living diary!
Roll you over before it's too late:
Before you're exposed to the monochrome phase...
Which can relate only fear and hate through the haze.

I am the automated arrow, homing on the heat of pain;
I am the Peacebringer... It is so strange,
I feed on grief and grieve through joy.
So roll me over and turn aside;
Don't let me look into the mirror of your eyes
For fear that I
May steel the life
You gradly gave.

I saw your picture in the Evening Standard,
you were wearing your battle dress.
I really must confess
that I shed a silent smile for you--
it had really blown my mind.
I wonder, are you still so kind?
Are you still so pure?
There are other rhymes around here somewhere,
but I'm not too sure how they fit....

Jenny, penny for your thoughts,
I wonder how you're thinking now;
I hesitate to visualise;
our worlds are much too different,
that's a sign of the times.
Time was when I read your cards
and wrote the numbers in the dust;
I can't remember what they were but, anyhow,
I missed the cusp.
So, so long, and so, goodbye.
Do you think I'd recognise you by your hair or by your mind now?

We start out together
but the paths all divide;
when there are no more crossroads
I open my eyes
and find I'm walking on alone
through the snowy cold....
I wonder if I'll make it through the night?

I'm an author and an actor too;
you're a model in the zoo...
I'm just thinking on which side of the bars
I'm looking through.
If I prophesied an avalanche
would you wait and call my bluff?
If I gave you just a little song
would that be enough
to save your life
or is the knife already turning in my hand?

What's it worth to be safe?
What's the way to be sane?
I can throw myself at the garden
on my hands,
prune the lawn and mow the roses,
but I never understand
how to go
to be free;
in the end I only want to be me.

Winter days here are mine;
still, no bites...what's my line?
I could hurl myself to the bonfire
with all verve,
clear the path and weed the dead leaves,
but I really just don't have the nerve
to be part
of that scene...
is this just some kind of strange dream?

Think I'll walk to the steeple, where the people
are so inquisitive.
I could make it to the corner store and buy
a hoard of derivatives
now.

Which way now...climb or coast?
Will my eggs ever poach?
I could throw myself in the frying pan
for my name;
hit the road or smile hermetically,
but it's really never quite the same:
every time a subtle twist.
I think I'll grab my plot
and simply exist.

Or would that be
a subtle slash at my wrists?

Sometimes it's very scary here, sometimes it's very sad,
sometimes I think I'll disappear; betimes I think I have.
There's a line snaking down my mirror,
splintered glass distorts my face
and though the light is strong and strange
it can't illuminate the musty corners of this place.
There is a lofty, lonely, Lohengrenic castle in the clouds;
I draw my murky meanings there
but seven years' dark luck is just around the corner
and in the shadows lurks the spectre of Despair.

A cracked mirror 'mid the drapes of the landing:
split image, labored understanding...
I'm only trying to find a place to hide my home.

I've lived in houses composed of glass
where every movement is charted
but now the monitor screens are dark
and I can't tell if silent eyes are there.
My words are spiders upon the page,
they spin out faith, hope and reason -
but are they meet and just, or only dust
gathering about my chair?
Sometimes I get the feeling
that there's someone else there:
the faceless watcher makes me uneasy;
I can feel him through the floorboards,
and His presence is creepy.
He informs me that I shall be expelled.
What is that but out of and into?
I don't know the nature of the door that I'd go through,
I don't know the nature of the nature
that I am inside ....

I've lived in houses of brick and lead
where all emotion is sacred
and if you want to devour the fruit
you must first sniff at the fragrance
and lay your body before the shrine
with poems and posies and papers
or, if you catch the ruse, you'll have to choose
to stay, a monk, or leave, a vagrant.
What is this place you call home?
Is it a sermon or a confession?
Is it the chalice that you use for protection?
Is it really only somewhere you can stay?
Is it a rule-book or a lecture?
Is it a beating at the hands of your Protector?
Does the idol have feet of clay?

Home is what you make it,
so my friends all say,
but I rarely see their homes in these dark days.
Some of them are snails
and carry houses on their backs;
others live in monuments
which, one day, will be racks.
I keep my home in place
with sellotape and tin-tacks;
but I still feel there's some other Force here....

He who cracks the mirrors and moves the walls
keeps staring through
the eye-slits of the portraits in my hall.
He ravages my library and taps the telephone.
I've never actually seen Him,
but I know He's in my home
and if he goes away,
I can't stay here either.
I believe...er ...I think...
well, I don't know ......

I only live in one room at a time,
but all of the walls are ears and all the windows, eyes.
Everything else is foreign,
'Home' is my wordless chant :
mmmmmaah!
Give it a chance!

I am surrounded by flesh and bone,
I am a temple of living,
I am a hermit, I am a drone,
and I am boring out a place to be.
With secret garlands about my head
unearthly silence is broke,
the room is growing dark, and in the stark light
I see a face I know.
Could this be the guy who never shows
the cracked mirror what he's feeling,
merely mumbles prayers to the ground where
he's kneeling:
"Home is home is home is home is home is home is me!"?
All you people looking for your houses,
don't throw your weight around,
you might break your glasses
and if you do, you know you just can't see,
and then how are you to find
the dawning of the day?
Day is just a word I use
to keep the dark at bay
and people are imaginary, nothing else exists
except the room I'm sitting in,
and, of course, the all-pervading mist -
sometimes I wonder if even that's real.

Maybe I should de-louse this place,
maybe I should de-place this louse,
maybe I'll maybe my life away
in the confines of this silent house.

Sometimes it's very scary here, sometimes it's very sad,
sometimes I think I'll disappear,sometimes I think ..... I....

Where are all the joys of yesterday?
Where, now, is the happiness and laughter that we shared?
Gone, like our childhood dreams, aspirations and beliefs;
time is a thief, and he ravages our gardens,
stripping saplings, felling trees,
trampling on our flowers, sucking sap and drying seeds.
In the midnight candle-light of experience
all colour fades, green fingers grey.

Time, alone, shall murder all the flowers,
still, there's time to share our plots and all that we call 'ours'.
How much worse, then, if we all deny each others' needs
and keep our gardens privately?

Its getting colder, wind and rain leave gashes;
looking back, I only see the friends I've lost.
Fires smoulder, raking through the ashes
my hands are dirty, my mind is numb,
I count the cost of 'I':
"I need to get on, I've got to tend my garden;
got to shut you out, no time to crave your pardon now".

Now I see the garden that I've grown is
just the same as those outside;
the fences that, erected to protect, simply divide....
There's ruination everywhere,
the weather has played havoc with the grass...
does anyone believe his garden's really going to last?
In the time allotted us, can any man keep miserly his own?
Is there any pleasure in a solitary growth?

Come and see my garden if you will,
I'd like someone to see it all before each root is killed.
Surely now its time to open up each life to all,
tear down the walls, if it's not too late!

There is so much sorrow in the world,
there is so much emptiness and heartbreak and pain.
Somewhere on the road we have all taken a wrong turn...
how can we build the right path again?

Through the grief, through the pain,
our flowers need each other's rain....

Jericho's strange, throbbing with life at its heart -
people are drawn together, simultaneously torn apart....
Foundations are shattered in the city
inside the barricaded doors;
hiding behind their walls, lonely as night falls,
maybe the people are waiting for trumpets.

Babylon's strange, seventh wonder of the earth -
gardens ablaze in colour, slowly rotting in the dirt
and, with your head on fire, you can't really see.
The hanging gardens sing,
but with a hollow ring :
the life is false, it's killing me....

Don't look back or you'll turn to stone;
look around before your life is overgrown
with concrete slabs.
On your back the searching eyes that stab
between chintz curtains, glinting,
but never owning to a name...
like the inmates of asylums
all the citizens are contagiously insane....

Atlantis is strange, the explosion of an age -
no-one really knows what to do,
and the city is a cage.
It traps in ashen hours and concrete towers,
imprisons in the social order.
The city's lost its way,
madness takes hold today...
I can't live under water.

Once, all the stars in the sky were bright,
now they're red and fading
and all the colours we wore, the shades that we bore
have moved.
And the gold turns to red with no time for changes.
Red Shift, all moving away from we.

Once, constellations were holy, now darkness
pervades all the older ones
and in the brunt of implosion, all yesterday's golden
now reddened suns
and hope is a word with no space for blame in.
Red Shift, displaced now in time and relativity,
Red Shift, all moving away from we.

So here I am, though I might well be with me,
I'm falling down deep to the rim of the wheel.
Is it sham?
Does the world have a meaning?
The more that we know , the greater confusion grows:
stars are like atoms, and atoms are patterns
and probably in the end
maybe its all been a dream ....

Time locked in negative matter,
all theories shatter beneath the weight.
Happy is the man who believes that the world
is a dream and all reason, fate.
And time moves on with no time,
the eye moves on with no rhyme,
and I'm a song in the depth of the galaxies.
Red Shift is taking away my sanity,
Red Shift, all moving away from we ....

Once, all the stars in the sky were bright,
now they're red and fading
and all the colours we wore, the shades that we bore
have moved.
And the gold turns to red with no time for changes.
Red Shift, all moving away from we.

Once, constellations were holy, now darkness
pervades all the older ones
and in the brunt of implosion, all yesterday's golden
now reddened suns
and hope is a word with no space for blame in.
Red Shift, displaced now in time and relativity,
Red Shift, all moving away from we.

So here I am, though I might well be with me,
I'm falling down deep to the rim of the wheel.
Is it sham?
Does the world have a meaning?
The more that we know , the greater confusion grows:
stars are like atoms, and atoms are patterns
and probably in the end
maybe its all been a dream ....

Time locked in negative matter,
all theories shatter beneath the weight.
Happy is the man who believes that the world
is a dream and all reason, fate.
And time moves on with no time,
the eye moves on with no rhyme,
and I'm a song in the depth of the galaxies.
Red Shift is taking away my sanity,
Red Shift, all moving away from we ....

I lay down beside you:
I am a unicorn, you a virginal maid,
and I come in laughing play
but, maybe, to be saved.

Peer through the backcloth:
I am a character in the play.
The words I slur are pre-ordained,
we know them anyway.

Don't change your mind, don't be a fickle friend;
don't change your mind, don't pretend
to something false.

Open the toy-box :
You are Pandora, I am the World.
If you cross the stream, you never can return;
If you stay, you'll surely burn.

Don't change your mind, don't come all orchid eyes;
don't change your mind, don't disguise the fear you feel,
it's real, and you must
guard your castle well,
for I am the lone wolf and the boar at bay.
Grant me your Pax, you know we only live today,
and on, and on, and into
"So long"
It takes so long to drown,
it takes so very long to choke on the taste you'd spurned.
If you cross the stream you never can return,
If you stay you'll surely burn.

I lay down beside you:
I am a unicorn, you a virginal maid,
and I come in laughing play
but, maybe, to be saved.

Peer through the backcloth:
I am a character in the play.
The words I slur are pre-ordained,
we know them anyway.

Don't change your mind, don't be a fickle friend;
don't change your mind, don't pretend
to something false.

Open the toy-box :
You are Pandora, I am the World.
If you cross the stream, you never can return;
If you stay, you'll surely burn.

Don't change your mind, don't come all orchid eyes;
don't change your mind, don't disguise the fear you feel,
it's real, and you must
guard your castle well,
for I am the lone wolf and the boar at bay.
Grant me your Pax, you know we only live today,
and on, and on, and into
"So long"
It takes so long to drown,
it takes so very long to choke on the taste you'd spurned.
If you cross the stream you never can return,
If you stay you'll surely burn.

Willie, what can I say to you to hold true in
Your changing life? You've come into a cruel
World : little girls can lose their way in the
Growing night -- I hope you'll be alright.
Willie, try to stay a child sometime, for as long
As you feel you can learn. Babies all turn to
People, and people can really be strange : they
Change and, changing, bring pain.
Try to treat your parents well because they care,
And what more can you do?
When you find your lovers, be good to them as
You hope they'll be to you
Be honest,
Be true.
Willie, you are the future; all our lives, in the end,
Are in your hands. Life's hard now you know,
It gets harder, and hope is but a single strand;
We pass it on and hope you'll understand....
We know that we do it wrong, we're not so strong
And not so sure at all; groping in our blindness,
We may seem big now but, really, we're so small
And alone and searching for a home
in the night.
Meanwhile you're still a baby; you'll be a lady
Soon enough and then you will feel the burn.
So hold my words : people all turn to children,
Spiteful children, and they're really so cruel...
cruel fools!
Just follow your own rules -
Don't think that I'm silly, Willie,
If I say I hope that there is hope for you.

So here we are, alone -
Our children have grown up and moved away.
Living their own lives, they say...
It all seems very strange to me.

I don't understand their ways:
Our children amaze me all the time
And I often wonder why they make me feel
So sad and suddenly old.

Now we're left with an empty home,
From our nest all the birds have flown for foreign skies.
We're discarded, of no further use,
Though we gave our kids all our youth and all our lives -
We really tried.

Now there's only my wife and me;
We used to have a family - now that's gone
And only memories linger on...
It all seems very wrong to me.

To our sorrows they were quite deaf
And as soon as they could they left us to our tears.
We always tried to teach what was good -
Yes, we gave our kids all we could through all the years.

So here we are at last;
The time has gone so fast and so have my dreams.
I simply don't know what it all means,
This pointless passage through the night,
This autumn-time, this walk upon the water....

I wonder how long
It will be till this song
Is sung by our own sons and daughters?

When I began I was full of altruistic dreams,
believed in princes and princesses, kings and queens -
now I find they're all human inside,
all bitterness and pride,
so why shouldn't I be like that too?
It seems that I've forgotten all I tried so hard to learn;
it seems there's not an ounce of love or trust
anywhere in the world.

Friends - they're all harbouring knives
to embed in your back out of revenge, or spite,
or indifference, or lack of other things to do -
in the end just who's going to be a friend for you
when they kick you in the guts just as your hand holds out the pearl?
It seems that there is nothing left but
hatred and lust in the world.

I don't give a damn anymore - I've only wound up betrayed.
It's all been absolutely worthless -
all the efforts I've made to be gentle and kind
are repaid with contempt,
degraded by sympathy and worthless kindness
and love that isn't meant.
I'm through with joy and company, I've done with pretty words,
betrayed - there's no hiding-place
anywhere in the world.
I've nothing left to fight for except making my passion heard -
I don't believe in anything
anywhere in the world.

You turn out the lights and sit alone,
Trying to pretend that it's anguish,
Start at the ring of a telephone,
Throw down all your food at the banquet,
Keep a close eye on all you own,
While leaving it all to languish...
Is this what makes you happy?
Is this what brings you joy?
Your excuses are so crappy...
Silly boy

You take all the love and throw it aside
To wallow in your sorrow,
Expect everyone to know how you feel inside,
To forgive and forget come tomorrow
Repaying all your debts with uncommon pride
But denying that you ever borrowed...
Is this what makes you perfect?
Is this what makes you free?
Just how long did you rehearse it,
Or does it just come naturally?

Crying wolf from the depth of your sheep's heart,
Crying fire from the depth of the well
In an endless parade of repeat starts,
Just how long will it last, can you tell?

Until all your friends and lovers
Are simply bored with the pretense?
It'll be too late then to discover
Just exactly what you meant
And what was true
And what was false...
The wolf turned into human,
The killer with remorse

Crying pain as though that should be pleasure,
Crying anger as though that should be revenge,
Crying sorrow as though that were a treasure,
Your treasure will find you in the end.

When all of your friends have gone away,
Unwilling to put up with the danger
That lies in each spiteful word you say,
You'll be left, a greying wolf in a manger
And when you've raised your last howl
And destroyed all that you can
With rotting teeth an slack jowls
You'll be left a lonely man.
And when it's nearly finished
And you know the end is near
With

(Even the wolf can learn,
even the sheep can turn,
even the frog become at last the prince.)

No more imagined insults
and no more bloated pride -
I'll see you at the wedding,
I'll see you on the other side
and I'll hold my peace forever
but I'll hold my passion more...
I'll be holding the door
and waiting for the princess -
I could say I'm waiting for the world
but when it comes right down to it
I'm simply waiting for the girl.
On through the ring of changes
I'll be at my side in a single bound,
lost and found...
looking to be lost and found.

La Rossa extends her hands -
in the morning light the stigmata don't show.
She's already up, making plans;
she thinks it's maybe time he ought to go.
And she's friendly like it's a service
but she's ringing round his head
though he knows she has no further use for him
still he feels like he's raised from the dead.
Out to the cold grey daylight, never even wondering, of course,
if one moment of perfect passion is worth a lifetime of remorse.

So it's no more empty promises
and no more idle threats;
no more "if only"s
and no more "and yet"s;
no more wishes for the future,
no more denials of the past:
I'm free at last,
I'm in love at last.
I'm lost and found....

(Put on your red dress, baby.
'Cause we're going out tonight,
put on your high-heeled sneakers,
Everything's going to be alright?)

The stars in the heavens still shine
up above me:
how lovely they'd seem
if you were with me
but you're gone through the looking-glass
and I am left to pass these nights alone.

I'm lost, I'm dumb, I'm blind,
I am drunk with sadness,
sunk by madness,
the wave overwhelms me,
the mirror repels me,
the echo of your laugh
drifts through the looking-glass
and I am alone.

No friendship, no comfort, no future, no home,
the past lingers with me:
you're all the love I've ever known
and without you I'm nothing
but empty and silent,
reflecting on all that I've lost.
I let you slip away so soon.

Can you hear me? This is my song:
I am dying; you are gone.

These words are not enough to save my soul,
they just mock me from the mirror.
I'm cold and I'm yearning,
I've told you I'm burning,
my eyes can't stand the light...
like a stray dog in the night
I'll shuffle off alone.

We all make our futures
but I have lost mine;
I'm hoping for a miracle
but finding no sign....

The stars in their constellations,
each one just sadly flickers and falls...
without you they mean nothing at all.

The stars in the heavens still shine
up above me:
how lovely they'd seem
if you were with me
but you're gone through the looking-glass
and I am left to pass these nights alone.

I'm lost, I'm dumb, I'm blind,
I am drunk with sadness,
sunk by madness,
the wave overwhelms me,
the mirror repels me,
the echo of your laugh
drifts through the looking-glass
and I am alone.

No friendship, no comfort, no future, no home,
the past lingers with me:
you're all the love I've ever known
and without you I'm nothing
but empty and silent,
reflecting on all that I've lost.
I let you slip away so soon.

Can you hear me? This is my song:
I am dying; you are gone.

These words are not enough to save my soul,
they just mock me from the mirror.
I'm cold and I'm yearning,
I've told you I'm burning,
my eyes can't stand the light...
like a stray dog in the night
I'll shuffle off alone.

We all make our futures
but I have lost mine;
I'm hoping for a miracle
but finding no sign....

The stars in their constellations,
each one just sadly flickers and falls...
without you they mean nothing at all.

Thinking back, it seems that I
can lie beside you as I never truly did,
in afterglow -
no afterwords at all.
Only writing love songs when it's gone and dead;
only paying words out in strings of half-forgotten sentiments...
I mean...
I meant...
I never really quite could say the way it was.

The first time that we met I said 'I bet that she's the one',
but I was talking to myself then, as always.
As time went by our steps entwined, unwritten lines drew taut
and I tried to find a way to make it all safe....
Into the play - what a production! -
into the days and ever more suction:
you hold me close, but hold me farther
away from yourself - I make me a martyr,
for pain and love go hand in hand....
And hand in hand go you and my friend,
you are his and I am yours and just cannot evade you;
my days a dream, my nights unseemly,
stolen moments all I live for,
but theft is no way to persuade you
to come with me, leave him behind you;
my hurtful eyes try to remind you
it's all I can do to keep from screaming
'I love you, I love you!' - I wish I was dreaming,
but the steps we take all leave footprints....

Sooner or later the whole thing will be blown:
you will leave him or I'll be left here, alone.
Either way someone loses someone
but I won't mind that, I just would quite like to know
who we love the most -
well, I guess that's ourselves.

The days are strange, at night we're strangers,
lie in bed and lie inside our heads,
we come no closer than as dancers.
Your eyes are change, your presence danger,
won't look me in the face and yet
you kiss and make up the answer
to all the questions that fly unanswered, unreasoned -
death in the sky, death in the season.
If you leave me now, it might nearly kill me....
Remember me?
Remember we three?

It all seemed so important at the time,
we came so close to wrecking all our lives,
and now it's all just song lines.
Time heals,
time heals -
oh, but I still bear the weals.

Thinking back, it seems that I
can lie beside you as I never truly did,
in afterglow -
no afterwords at all.
Only writing love songs when it's gone and dead,
only paying words out: streams of half-forgotten sentiments...
I mean...
I meant...
I never really quite could say
the way it was.

A motor-bike in Afrika,
yeah, he's riding the white line,
oblivious of snakes stretched out across the way like trip-wire,
shouting
"The road is mine!"

Tracing the line of the Skeleton Coast,
ghost riders from the Sud-West:
the original Angels of Death they seem,
six motor-bikes abreast.

Riding through the oppressive night,
now only the hardest remain.
Look at the scars of the tyre-tracks,
look to the bodies behind their backs,
look at the bastards bray
in Afrika today.

The bodies of Biko and Soweto poor,
the Christian message of Dutch Reform,
the sound of the monster, the motor-bike roar,
the hate in the eyes of the uniformed Boer,
the head and the bucket, the boot and the floor...
racial torture and racial war
in Afrika today.

Come in Rhodesia, South Africa, your time is up...
no protection on a motor-bike, man;
sooner or later that normal traffic's gonna get you.

Hunched in the corner of the dressing-room,
trying to get back to the real...
Uh-oh, here they come, ready for their meal:

Energy Vampires, crawling out of the wall,
they want to steal my vitality,
they want to drink it all.

This guy says that he wrote all my songs,
this girl says she's had my baby ?
me, I don't know them from Adam and Eve,
sometimes I really believe I'm going crazy.

"Excuse me while I suck your blood,
excuse me when I phone you,
I've got every one of your records, man,
doesn't that mean I own you?"
Oh, sure, I long ago decided to make myself an exponent
of public possession in the private obsession zone.

But now I'm serious, let's be serious,
I'm not selling you my soul,
try to put it in the records
but I've got to keep my life my own.
One thing I've not got a lot of is time
and it's slipping away...

I've got a life to live too.

Ah, here they come...
Vampires!

You must be crazy to stay here,
and I'll be crazy when you go;
though there's so much I want to tell you
all the words come out too slow.
I've been locked in my problems,
you seemed prepared to wait...
now that I know I'm going to lose you
all the words come out too late.

There's no promise I can give you
that you wouldn't know was fake;
though I just want to be with you,
there's no show that I can make.
And in the morning, when I wake and find you dressing
I can tell that it's on your mind to go for good;
I know that all this time I've kept you guessing,
but I'd tell you if I could.

If I now said that I loved you
how would that seem in your eyes?
Oh, may my voice fall into silence
if my words turn out to be lies.
I never meant to hurt you,
even though that's what I do ?
even though you might not believe this
all my words were meant for you.

There's no promise I can give you
that you wouldn't know was fake;
though I just want to be with you,
there's no show that I can make.
And in the evening, when we sit and watch the TV
I know that all this silence just won't do me any good
and I want to beg you, beg you, beg you to believe me...
oh, I'd tell you if I could,
I'd tell you if I could.

You know, you know, you know she's going to leave you,
You know, you know, you know she's going to go,
You know, you know, you know she's going to leave you.

I'd tell you if I could.

Oh, brighter than a thousand suns,
the march towards the stars
on the wheel, on the car,
off the plane, off the planet
and on in the search.
Yes, we pray in the dark in the Sciences' church.

Upon the tree of knowledge
the fruit is bitter-sweet;
to the man in the street
all its myriad benefits Science confers
but we're still in the dark, much as we always were.

Run your mind down the Sciences;
none of them lay claim to show more than a part
but still we shout out what we know...
the silence is enough to break the mortal heart.

So bow down in adoration to the wonder that is man;
we have learned all we can,
we explore every frontier that straddles our way
but we're still in the dark, though we now call it day.

No, there is no answer,
there is no eternal proof,
there is no timeless truth;
though we learn to encompass yet more with the eye
we are still in the dark when it comes to the why.

We are still in the dark,
bedded down
and so we still lie.

Everything out of order
everything too well produced
from the conjuror's hat ?
let's turn on the juice
to grind the cutting plane, the blade that gives an edge,
to scale the mountain; to fail upon the mountain ledge.

Half-way up is half-way peaking,
the stroboscope locks the lathe;
I look around for a switch in phase...
the disco boom stands firm, the eight-track's in, the rage
licks the present, quickly flips the future page.

Check the deck: no marked cards,
no sequentialled straight or flush...
the dice won't still the blood-line rush.
Run the star-flood night, the cut-throat blade is stropped;
race your shadow... race in case your shadow stops.

Everything so out of order
no bias on the playback head;
papers for the border ?
all the tape is read,
the future burns my tongue, the noise-gates all are shut,
breathe the vacuum, believe there's reason in the cut.

Incipient white noise,
the stylus barely tracks,
the air controllers feed the stereo sonic smack.

Here we are, static in the latter half
of the twentieth century
but it might as well be the Middle Ages,
there'll have to be some changes
but how they'll come about foxes me.
I want the future now,
I want to hold it in my hands;
all men equal and unbowed,
I want the Promised Land.

But that doesn't seem to get any closer,
and Moses has had his day...
the tablets of law are an advertising poster,
civilisation here to stay
and this is progress? You must be joking!
Me, I'm looking for any kind of hope.
I want the future now,
I want to see it on the screen,
I want to break the bounds
that make our lives so mean.

Oh, blind, blinded, blinding hatred
of race, sex, religion, colour, country and creed,
these scream from the pages of everything I read.
You just bring me oppression and torture,
apartheid, corruption and plague;
you just bring me the rape of the planet
and joke world rights at the Hague.
Oh, someday the Millennium!
But how far is someday away?
I want the future now
I'm young, and it's my right.
I want a reason to be proud.
I want to see the light.
I want the future now,
I want to see it on the screen,
I want to break the bounds:
make life worth more than dreams.

Yeah, wake up the planet!

See the old man acting like a fool,
yeah, he's running from the ambulance.
When he was a youngster he broke all the rules ?
now he says that was just accident.
Always had the feeling he was going to die young,
so now he feels repentant;
but the judge was progressive and the jury was hung,
he got a suspended sentence.
So he ran from his future, he ran from his past,
yes, he ran from the desert of the hour-glass
but the sea of time is a rising flood
and he's swamped by the wave.
His arms go limp by his side,
he only came for the ride,
he thought he'd hold back the tide,
Canute.

One eye on the main chance and one eye on the clock,
oh, when did his brain go?
And when does a veteran get to be a crock...
no gold at the end of this rainbow!
He always boxed clever with his shadowy hopes
but now he's in trouble with his back on the ropes
and the hands of time are bunched into fists:
yeah, he's out for the Count.
The sword has sunk in the lake
and now he's watching dawn break
and now he waits for the stake,
Dracul.

This boy's a fool,
this fool's a man,
all men are ruled
by the Second Hand.

He could have been so great, he could have had it all,
he had it on a plate, but he threw it at the wall.
And he can't know why, but he still said "yes"
to the easy lie and the poisoned vest...
the trappings of success.

They offered him the deal (Here's the contract)
just like an autograph (sign on the line)
no need to think or feel (advances are abstract)
or do anything but laugh (the future defined.)
He's in possession, yes he's possessed;
they had no fear, he was so impressed
by the trappings of success.

You'll see him down the clubs or at the premiere
(it's just another movie, it's just another act)
strumming in a pub, everywhere that's anywhere
(he's a man of the people, just as long as the people don't talk back)
on the Rio shore or the Rome express
with a Chinese whore or a Greek princess ?
these are the trappings of success.

But he's got no home and he's got no friends
and the human mass repel him.
Now he's on his own and can't comprehend
did he sell out or was he celled in?

(He's a prisoner in a gilded cage.
He's a prisoner... he's all the rage.)

He's waiting for his plane and his first-class seat;
they've blown out his brains with sticky kiddies' sweets;
oh, the limo, the coke, the celebrity guest-list,
the toady jokes and the gutter press...
the trappings of success,
these are the trappings of success.
And there's no way out of this one.

The trappings of success,
The trappings of success,
the trap of fame;
(in) the trap... big game.

Look at the candle, as it's life is bought,
as the wick just rolls of and dies;
look at the wax-drops as they cease from their goal
and the game they were playing loses its joy
and the youth which they played in runs away....
How long will you be gone?

Flames sucks at air now and its breath comes short
as it wavers to half its size;
vacuum closes in and it attacks the soul.
Now the force omnipotent itself is destroyed
and for lack of itself it wanes away....
How long will you be gone?

So does my mind fly as I fight my thought -
and I lose, for I cannot find:
sent my eyes long miles, they do not know home!
For the life I was part of breathes its last
and not only life, but hope has gone away....
How long will you be gone?
How long will you be gone

-------------
Lyrics Powered by LyricFind
Written By PETER HAMMILL
Lyrics © WINDSWEPT HOLDINGS LLC, CARLIN AMERICA INC, R & M MUSIC PRODUCTIONS INC

I don't know quite what's happening
and my eyes don't see too clear;
all I know is I need you here,
if only to shield me from the mood of the world
and hold me and say it doesn't matter....
but I'm like a child whose dreams are shattered,

Crowding round me: images of broken thought,
lines of my life now overgrown.
All I can feel is I'm so alone,
without even your bright eyes to reach into my mind
and say that in my life I've done right,
and I'm like a moonchild in the sunlight.

So cast your thoughts upon me, wherever you are,
that I may feel you close beside me
and hold your hand, for you to guide me
through all these catacombs which freeze me
with their touch;
unknowing, knowing so much, my mind cries out
and I'm like a child when the light's out

With a child's fear of the dark

-------------
Lyrics Powered by LyricFind
Written By PETER HAMMILL
Lyrics © WINDSWEPT HOLDINGS LLC, CARLIN AMERICA INC, R & M MUSIC PRODUCTIONS INC

How was it that we first met?
...I forget, all I know is you
looked happy.
We walked around and talked a while;
In your smile I found that I
was happy.
I want to tell you;
it seems a thing to do;
I want to show I truly care.
Now at every time we meet
we walk the streets, I'm with you and I
feel happy.
Just thought I'd tell you.
It seems a thing to do,
I want to prove I truly care.
But how long will all this last?
Time goes fast, It doesn't matter,
with you, I'm happy.
Time goes fast, It doesn't matter, with you
I'm happy.

-------------
Lyrics Powered by LyricFind
Written By PETER HAMMILL
Lyrics © WINDSWEPT HOLDINGS LLC, CARLIN AMERICA INC, R & M MUSIC PRODUCTIONS INC

How was it that we first met?
...I forget, all I know is you
looked happy.
We walked around and talked a while;
In your smile I found that I
was happy.
I want to tell you;
it seems a thing to do;
I want to show I truly care.
Now at every time we meet
we walk the streets, I'm with you and I
feel happy.
Just thought I'd tell you.
It seems a thing to do,
I want to prove I truly care.
But how long will all this last?
Time goes fast, It doesn't matter,
with you, I'm happy.
Time goes fast, It doesn't matter, with you
I'm happy.

-------------
Lyrics Powered by LyricFind
Written By PETER HAMMILL
Lyrics © WINDSWEPT HOLDINGS LLC, CARLIN AMERICA INC, R & M MUSIC PRODUCTIONS INC

I once wrote some poems of stillness and silence,
standing by rivers of reflected light:
my thoughts were on being loved and yet unloved, too -
I surrendered to the warmth of the night.
And now I feel like dying,
and if the water were still here, it would
hold me close.

I once wrote a poem while walking on gravestones,
as cobbles, rain and tear lashed down my face....
I then felt my whole world was fading
as memories jostled and fell into place.
And now I feel like dying,
and the pain of old fires still burns.

I never wrote poems when I bit my knuckles
and Death started slipping into my mouth...
but that was really a long time ago,
and I'm not writing poems now.
And though I don't feel quite like dying,
there is something deep inside me
softly crying.

And though I don't feel quite like dying
there is something deep inside me softly....

Pack your bags, we're leaving
earth, where hate is seething;
nothing's worth believing....
There's no time, make up your mind!
Imperial Zeppelin....

Quick, the engines are turning,
cabin lights are burning,
now there's no returning....
We'll have love a mile above...
Imperial Zeppelin, Imperial Zeppelin, Imperial Zeppelin!

We, the undersigned, being of sound mind,
hereby do declare:
'We henceforth pledge ourselves unto the power
of the Upper Air.'
Doesn't that sound simply super,
Zeppelin visions of the future?
Of course we all know very well
it wouldn't work, but what the hell -
every dice deserves a throw,
and when we get back home below
we can say we had a go!

Overboard we are throwing
seeds of love we are sowing,
hope to God they're growing....
Flying high across the sky:
Imperial Zeppelin!

We will try to do some good,
I don't know why we really should,
I only wish that we could!
Down below they'll see and know all about
Imperial Zeppelin!
Imperial Zeppelin!
Imperial Zeppelin

If you catch me running along by the sea, with bare feet in
the sand, then you'll know I am dreaming my life out in a way
you won't understand.
I'm slipping right out of your mind, this I know, and I accept
the fact lazily, for I must go into the next field,
where grass is green and I'll find peace.
Let me sleep!
Let me dream!
Let me be!
Reawakening isn't easy when you're tired.
Don't push me: I was taught self-expression
when I was a child, and so I know
the best way to go is slow.

Sometimes, when skies are cloud-grey, and trouble's hanging
heavy on your mind, I advise you: curl up, slid away and
dream your life out, as I am.
Reawakening isn't easy when you're tired.
Don't push me: I was taught self-expression
when I was a child, and so I see
the best way to be's asleep.

Reawakening isn't easy when you're tired

If you catch me running along by the sea, with bare feet in
the sand, then you'll know I am dreaming my life out in a way
you won't understand.
I'm slipping right out of your mind, this I know, and I accept
the fact lazily, for I must go into the next field,
where grass is green and I'll find peace.
Let me sleep!
Let me dream!
Let me be!
Reawakening isn't easy when you're tired.
Don't push me: I was taught self-expression
when I was a child, and so I know
the best way to go is slow.

Sometimes, when skies are cloud-grey, and trouble's hanging
heavy on your mind, I advise you: curl up, slid away and
dream your life out, as I am.
Reawakening isn't easy when you're tired.
Don't push me: I was taught self-expression
when I was a child, and so I see
the best way to be's asleep.

Reawakening isn't easy when you're tired

Silently I rest in the tall green grassand look steadily upwards.Birds sing ceaselessly around me,and the blue of the sky surrounds me strangely.Out here, life is at its essence,and watches the world with innocent eyes;far from grime, far from rushing people it seems that I have found a tiny peace.On the blue backdrop of the unknownwater droplets trace their paths;on the sky, mortals hang on metal -but who is to know how long either will last?The lovely white clouds glideacross the sky and into my dreams...I feel as though I had died some time ago:now I'll wander with the clouds through eternal space.

-------------
Lyrics Powered by LyricFind
Written By PETER HAMMILL
Lyrics © WINDSWEPT HOLDINGS LLC, CARLIN AMERICA INC, R & M MUSIC PRODUCTIONS INC

Summer song in the autumn, for you didn't catch
the colour of the falling leaves.
So many words have been spoken which you
didn't understand and so couldn't believe.
And the song that you're humming is yesterday's tune -
Someone who you love is leaving you.

You walking in sunshine by the sea with gull crying overhead;
but now the skies are cloudy, and the love you had is dead.
And the water recedes from the farthest dunes -
Someone who you loved is leaving you.

You remember the happiness you had
as you laughed along in the sun
but now your eyes are coming dull,
there's a numbness on your tongue....

You look out at the water which is calling you
over the wind,
then you throw aside your handbag and slowly
walk right in.
And tomorrow you'll be in yesterday's news:
someone who you loved has left you

-------------
Lyrics Powered by LyricFind
Written By PETER HAMMILL
Lyrics © WINDSWEPT HOLDINGS LLC, CARLIN AMERICA INC, R & M MUSIC PRODUCTIONS INC

Oh, suddenly things begin to come clear in my mind
as I look into the land laid bare by your eyes;
E-S/M attractions are working behind my thought,
I can't help my feelings, the way that my emotions
are over-wrought.
Refrain:
Good morn
ing, sunshine!
You're all around my head,
Good morning, sunshine!
I'm ready to be led.
Good morning, sunshine!
You know how sad it makes me to see you unhappy
so smile, spread sunshine all around....
How sweet it would be to be chained by your side;
how sweet if you would strip my worried mind.
Your blonde/brown hair hangs down on you,
how I wish that it hung on me,
there's something in your allure, that makes me know I'll
never again be free.
Refrain
I'd like to run on the clouds of my liberty,
but for you I'd get hooked and float six inches mud-free.
The sight of your smile just makes me want to jump and clap;
the fact that you may be owed to someone else can't
entirely tight your trap.

Oh, suddenly things begin to come clear in my mind
as I look into the land laid bare by your eyes;
E-S/M attractions are working behind my thought,
I can't help my feelings, the way that my emotions
are over-wrought.
Refrain:
Good morn
ing, sunshine!
You're all around my head,
Good morning, sunshine!
I'm ready to be led.
Good morning, sunshine!
You know how sad it makes me to see you unhappy
so smile, spread sunshine all around....
How sweet it would be to be chained by your side;
how sweet if you would strip my worried mind.
Your blonde/brown hair hangs down on you,
how I wish that it hung on me,
there's something in your allure, that makes me know I'll
never again be free.
Refrain
I'd like to run on the clouds of my liberty,
but for you I'd get hooked and float six inches mud-free.
The sight of your smile just makes me want to jump and clap;
the fact that you may be owed to someone else can't
entirely tight your trap.

In a moment of weakness I embodied the sickness
And when everyone winds me up I just can't wind down
And the April rain soaks my jokes to a pulp
The sun makes my eyes burn
And it must be my turn
To fly with the birds this time

Saturday's nation is rife with anticipation
Of the ticket that buys you out of the real world
But I don't mind the rain
'Cause I was born on an aeroplane
Balloon ride over landslides
It's April, I'm 18
And flying with the birds in a dream

Make an electric connection as lightning strikes
Angels' wings not once but twice
Point blank refusal, the earth moves I turn her head
Plant life gone wild over British monuments
Something is burning
Somebody's learning
To fly with the birds tonight

Solomon flies tonight
Cape to coast, wings in full flight
He's flying home with the birds tonight
In a moment of weakness I embodied the sickness
And I just can't wind down

In a moment of weakness I embodied the sickness
And when everyone winds me up I just can't wind down
And the April rain soaks my jokes to a pulp
The sun makes my eyes burn
And it must be my turn
To fly with the birds this time

Saturday's nation is rife with anticipation
Of the ticket that buys you out of the real world
But I don't mind the rain
'Cause I was born on an aeroplane
Balloon ride over landslides
It's April, I'm 18
And flying with the birds in a dream

Make an electric connection as lightning strikes
Angels' wings not once but twice
Point blank refusal, the earth moves I turn her head
Plant life gone wild over British monuments
Something is burning
Somebody's learning
To fly with the birds tonight

Solomon flies tonight
Cape to coast, wings in full flight
He's flying home with the birds tonight
In a moment of weakness I embodied the sickness
And I just can't wind down

Looking out forward over the prow of our long ship,
pulling our oars and listening to the foam;
helmets and sheepskins salt-damp in the sea-mist:
We're going home.

Aslak of Langadale, Einar Thorgeirsson,
Olaf the White and Sigurd the Powerful...

Looking for constellations above the horizon,
West wind cutting sharper than our blades;
smiling forever into an endless sunrise,
we're flying on the waves.

Thorfin Karlsefny, Aud the Deep-Minded,
Snorri Thorbrandsson, Thorstein the Black....

Out of dark Vinland, with grey waves racing before us -
We want no rest.
Back to the homeland, Iceland, sleeping in winter -
back from the West.
Five years we roam;
now we're going home

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Written By PETER HAMMILL
Lyrics © WINDSWEPT HOLDINGS LLC, CARLIN AMERICA INC, R & M MUSIC PRODUCTIONS INC

I have a vision of you, locked inside my head;
it creeps upon my mind, and warms me in my bed...
A vision shimering, shifting
moving in false firelight;
a vision of a vision,
protecting me from fear at night,
as the seasons roll on, and my love stays strong.
I don't know where you end, and where it is that I begin.
You simply open my mind, and the memories flood on in.
I remember waking up, with you arms around me;
I remember losing myself
and finding that you'd found me,
as the seasons roll on, and my love stays strong.
Be my child, be my lover, swallow me up in your fire-glow.
Take my tongue, take my torment, take my hand and don't let go.
Let me live in your life,
for you make it all seem to matter;
Let me die in your arms,
so the vision may never shatter...
The seasons roll on;
my love stays strong.

Here's a sensation I wouldn't trade ?
pinpoint in the onrush,
dancing to the rhythm of the wiper blades.
Up ahead on the autobahn
headlights like a lava stream;
up ahead in the distance is where we're going,
where we will have been.

Back in the motor, keep going overnight;
we've got no certain destination
but for all we know we might.
So get back in the motor, let's drive it anyplace...
better to travel hopefully
than to arrive, in any case.

While you check out the map-book,
just like a novel that's all out of joint,
our passport into anonymity...
stick a pin into the vanishing point.
I could drive for hours,
don't even need to know the way to go;
I could drive forever
with some classical music on the radio.

Back in the motor, back into overdrive
and if we travel hopefully then we'll know we're alive.
Get back in das Auto, let's drive it anyplace,
better to travel hopefully than to arrive in any case.

We could drive forever,
we could drive forever,
I caught you thinking, I bet you were,
that we could drive forever
in the never-never land of the metaphor.

Back in the motor, keep going overnight;
We've got no key to the highway
but for all we know we might as well
get back in the motor, let's drive it anyplace,
better to travel hopefully than to arrive in any case.
So get back in the motor, let's get on with the drive
and if we travel hopefully then we know we're alive.

Get back in the motor.
Let's get back in the motor,
get in tune with the motor,
get back.

So here we are, alone -
Our children have grown up and moved away.
Living their own lives, they say...
It all seems very strange to me.

I don't understand their ways:
Our children amaze me all the time
And I often wonder why they make me feel
So sad and suddenly old.

Now we're left with an empty home,
From our nest all the birds have flown for foreign skies.
We're discarded, of no further use,
Though we gave our kids all our youth and all our lives -
We really tried.

Now there's only my wife and me;
We used to have a family - now that's gone
And only memories linger on...
It all seems very wrong to me.

To our sorrows they were quite deaf
And as soon as they could they left us to our tears.
We always tried to teach what was good -
Yes, we gave our kids all we could through all the years.

So here we are at last;
The time has gone so fast and so have my dreams.
I simply don't know what it all means,
This pointless passage through the night,
This autumn-time, this walk upon the water....

I wonder how long
It will be till this song
Is sung by our own sons and daughters?

When I began I was full of altruistic dreams,
believed in princes and princesses, kings and queens -
now I find they're all human inside,
all bitterness and pride,
so why shouldn't I be like that too?
It seems that I've forgotten all I tried so hard to learn;
it seems there's not an ounce of love or trust
anywhere in the world.

Friends - they're all harbouring knives
to embed in your back out of revenge, or spite,
or indifference, or lack of other things to do -
in the end just who's going to be a friend for you
when they kick you in the guts just as your hand holds out the pearl?
It seems that there is nothing left but
hatred and lust in the world.

I don't give a damn anymore - I've only wound up betrayed.
It's all been absolutely worthless -
all the efforts I've made to be gentle and kind
are repaid with contempt,
degraded by sympathy and worthless kindness
and love that isn't meant.
I'm through with joy and company, I've done with pretty words,
betrayed - there's no hiding-place
anywhere in the world.
I've nothing left to fight for except making my passion heard -
I don't believe in anything
anywhere in the world.

Hope by and by, hope by and by ?
motes in the eye, portcullis is shut...
a skull isn't much
of a c-c-castle to live in
when I know that the change is going to come,
the change has got to come.

Explosions in the brain attest to it.
evolution down the drain ?
let all the rest do it.
Oh yeah, the only result
is cumulative drek.
It won't be the drug,
it won't be the sex,
it's got to be the Faculty X.

Looking for a method, I play a straight bat,
throw away the chances to slip.
Yeah, you talk about the average ?
I don't care about that
and my words are only giving me lip
when I know that the change has got to come,
the change has got to come,
or what am I living for?
Or why am I here?
I'm running, I give in more,
far away from the near.

Go meta-physical world,
the sign that protects.
It wasn't the last,
it won't be the next,
it's Faculty X.

Reading seers, sages, prophets, obscurantist tracts,
draining the elixir to the dregs;
active yeast in the bottom is on the attack
and it leaves me without any legs to stand on.

Still I hope that the change will come.

Meanwhile I don't know,
I think I'll have to go,
go for the governing body
my consciousness elects.
It won't be so clear,
it won't be direct,
it's all that I fear,
it's all I suspect
and I'll disappear in Faculty X.

I pluck all these characters out of thin air,
I push them down into the lungs;
I infuse them with meaning as much as I dare.

Stretch out for the shoreline and wait for the wave...

Follow the instructions,
the envelope is sealed:
we're waiting on an update,
something like the reinvention of the wheel.
Who made the world so complicated?
Who made the watchword wait and see?
I wake myself up, shake myself up,
take myself apart but still can't see...
The esoteric is lost on me.

Follow the instructions:
they speak in many tongues,
in unlimited edition
and the last step on the ladder is the bottom rung.
The diagram is so confusing,
anagrammatical the mystery;
I wake myself up, shake myself up,
break myself apart and find in me
the esoteric machinery,
the esoteric invisibly.

Follow the instructions,
tell us what you think;
they lose something in translation,
they might as well be printed in invisible ink.

Esoteric machinery,
the esoteric invisibly;
the esoteric is lost on me,
the esoteric invisibility.

Who made the world so complicated?
Who put the alpha in the ABC?
I wake myself up, shake myself up,
break myself apart but finally
the esoteric is lost on me.
The esoteric, no time to think,
The esoteric, written in invisible ink.

In invisible ink
indivisible link
in invisible ink.

God lives in the cathedral,
or so the Archbishop states...
all fealty to the Church,
all power to the state!

Gold keys to the cathedral,
they go with the bishop's cowl;
he lives a spiritual life of material wealth.
Are things so very different now?

Oh yeah,
oh now:
save your prayers for the future.
Say your prayers for the future.

Oh, God's gone from the cathedral,
a different power now holds sway,
we can pack them up in the history books
but the Middle Ages won't go away.

The answer to our prayers is a Valium by the bedside,
now we follow the pundits on TV,
now we put our faith in Science and Progress
and only have sex on our knees.

And those who are strange are still locked in asylums
and a sterile Pope proscribes the Pill
and those who are rich are still getting richer
and those who are poor still foot the bill.

And God lives in underground silos,
hanging on for Judgement Day;
if we don't open our eyes pretty soon
then the Dark Ages'll be here to stay.