Peter Hammill

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.

Here it comes up on the screen,
the propaganda of the military-industrial machine.
By now we find there's little choice:
when our masters tell us "smile" we rejoice.
With the nuclear shield safely in place
we're assured of the survival of the human race.

The earth is flat and pigs can fly ?
swallow hard and believe the lies.
In these alleys all are blind:
skittles fall for the dreams of humankind.

And nuclear power is safe as hell ?
Swallow hard, young William Tell.
The earth is flat and pigs can fly ?
If you swallow hard you believe the lies.

In the banks the deals are made ?
of course there's no profit in lending the Third World aid.
If the larder shelves are bare let the people eat cake
and thank the governments for the air.
Meanwhile, in the cells, secret police
champion freedom, offer justice, keep the peace.

The Pope talks to God, the Ayatollah too ?
swallow hard and believe it true.
The earth is flat and pigs can fly ?
if you swallow hard you'll believe the lies.
It's a hemlock world.

It's a hemlock world that we must drink ?
swallow hard and don't try to think.
It's a hemlock world that we all face ?
swallow hard on the bitter taste,
swallow hard on the bitter taste,
swallow hard on the aftertaste.

It's a hemlock, it's a hemlock world.

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.

The jokes are everywhere,
the secret deal's complete ?
Money talks, some good advice,
the politicians run like clockwork mice,
all fits the masterplan.

A database on the telephone
and cable sunshine floods your home ?
so, times are good?
Fat cats get fatter day by day,
those who sit it out will make their way,
so things can't be that bad.

Ooh, a smile has set upon this land,
ooh, a selfish grin of ignorance;
Ooh, you simply have to play the game.
The joke's on us:
this is more and more ridiculous.

Everything's great,
objectivity taboo;
self-satisfaction pumping up
minor achievements to cover up
all the failures and mistakes
and if you don't smile along
you're a public enemy, you don't belong...
The black lists are in the mail.
There isn't any room for doubt,
we'll all be equal when we share it out
but outsiders will get nothing.

Ooh, a smile has set upon this land,
ooh, a rictus grin of ignorance;
Ooh, you simply have to play the game.
The joke's on us:
this is more and more ridiculous.

To the city beat on a treacherous curve,
up upon the high wire you're observed ?
you live as you live, you'll get what you deserve:
High life, dig those highlights,
Sun City nightlife:
you'll be like a moth consumed by a flame.

It's a rich man's world, kick those beggars and fools;
conspicuous consumption the only rule,
but the law of retribution will be terribly cruel.

Oh, but you mustn't stop to think about your place upon the planet;
if you did, you might steal yourself away
and it doesn't really matter if the show goes up tomorrow.
After all, this petty place is day to day.
Highlights of the highlife,
dancing at midnight,
dancing all moral existence away.

Nightlife, highlights, highlife, twilight...
Oh, you mustn't ever think about your place upon the planet,
don't look further than the bottom of a drink,
don't ever think about the way you'll feel tomorrow,
don't stop dancing or the boat will sink...
all in all it's gone before you blink.

Highlights of the high life,
Sun City nightlife,
you'll be like a moth consumed by flame...
Twilight of the high life,
chimes at midnight...
you're still dancing all moral existence away.

(A motor-bike in Afrika,
he's riding the white line
oblivious of snakes stretched out across the way like trip-wire...
He's dancing.
Biko, Biko Biko, Biko...)

Away from the past, this chance is the last,
we are changing completely,
we are moving the feast, we are motion.
I've seen you become the bride of the sun,
you surrender so sweetly,
sacrificing yourself to devotion.

This book is ended and I put it down,
this book is ended and I put it down,
I'm saved, I'm saving for the future.
This book is ended and I put it down,
find I'm befriended in a foreign town,
I'm saved, I'm sailing for the future.

But only yesterday night
I stood in the pouring rain, shouting at the thunder:
I said "Lord, I'm starting to understand the hidden mystery."
Lord, the compass falls in my hand,
I can sail to the far horizon...

Could you conceive a mirror
where you could never see yourself?

Away from the past, the iconoclasts,
we are changing completely,
we are breaking the mould, we are rapture.
I've seen you astride the wind and the tide,
my dark angel, you greet me with a samurai sword,
close the chapter...

This book is ended and I put it down,
find I'm befriended in a foreign town,
I'm here, but I'm nearer to the future.

But only yesterday night
I stood in the pouring rain, shouting at the thunder:
I said "Lord, I'm starting to understand the hidden mystery."
Lord, the compass falls in my hand,
I can sail to the far horizon...

This book is ended and I put down,
find I'm befriended in a foreign town,
this book is ended and I put it down.

Time to burn, we could talk all the problems through...
Are the promises still unbroken,
do the spoken words still ring true?
Oh, and where are you?

Time to burn, wakes and weddings, celestial choirs,
and while one hand shakes on the bargain
see the other stoke the suttee pyre;
so we're all on fire,
burning for tomorrow.

So much time wish- and hoping,
soon the future will come
with a bridal wreath for the wedding
in the hands of the prodigal son.
So much left undone,
here we are with time to burn.

So much time wishful thinking,
all the whitest of lies
with the prodigal caught at the border
and the order of service awry.
No time for goodbyes,
will we ever start to learn?

Time to burn, wakes and weddings become confused,
all the faces over-familiar
in the whirlwind of deja-vu...
Oh, but where are you?

Time to burn, all our lifelines are gathered round
with a speech from the back of a postcard
all the memories free in one bound.
Free, and gone to ground,
free, and gone forever.
Free, and gone to ground,
so I will remember
so much lost and found.
Here we are with time to burn.

No thanks for the memory, no thanks at all,
no way we can wipe the slate or contrive escape
from the names we're called.
No thanks for the memory, here it comes again,
this life running on the spot, though we hide a lot
with our cover names.

We can no more change the past than shed our skins.

But we keep on thinking that we might go someplace
where not a soul knows what has gone before,
with such headfuls of self-accusation
that we don't even know our own names anymore.

No thanks for the memory,
no thanks.

Call them by a different name and turn about ?
we can no more change our spots than wash them out.

No thanks for the memory, locked in the frame.
No way we can change the pattern of things that happened
under cover names.

And we keep on skirting round the true confession,
with fresh identities and best-laid plans;
And we keep on working to outreach the shadow,
but the shadow will outrun the man.
With such headfuls of self-accusation,
that no pseudonyms can hide our shame,
lost in a jungle of our own creation,
lost in a labyrinth of cover names...
We can no more change the past than live again.
We can no more shed our skins than know our real names.

Nobody knows our real name,
nobody knows their real name,
we hide under cover names...
No thanks for the memory.

Here's the modern political man, for sure he's nobody's fool,
believes in media coverage as a promotional tool.
Trust in him because he's got the right face;
just in case you harbour doubt
here is a slogan to tout.

He's such a principled man, all heart, ruled by his brain:
You've seen the TV commercials, you've seen the poster campaign,
you've seen the ads in the papers, there's nothing else to explain.
Just some words to maximise the market,
just a message that will reach the target,
promises that turn to dust.
He is a man you can trust.
This is a man of the people in politics now.

Politics now, it's just like selling soap powder,
no money down ? you lucky punters ?
full guarantee,
five year's trial free!

He is a man you can trust.
By dint of market research he knows which truths he should tell;
he's got the mark of conviction, it serves the agency well;
yes, he's on course for election in politics now.
Trust the propagandists' manifesto,
trust the politician with the promo,
trust the ads to buy your vote.

Vote for brand x, it's just like selling soap powder,
whatever next? You lucky punters,
full guarantee...
Whatever next?
Show trials by decree...

The show trials are free,
the show trials come free,
vote for brand x.

I stretch my hands
Clutch vacant laughter
In silence and sweet, sweet pain
Without demand
But with a longing
For what will never come again
I smell your perfume
On the sheets in the morning
It linger like the patterns
On the window after rain
A past that lives
If only for the present...
Which is gone and will never come again
To your sad eyes
Turned away, mine say
'Do you? Did you? How?'
As the darkness
Slides away the day
Shows what was
And makes what is now
I see your picture
As though it were a mirror
But there's no part of you
Outside the frame
Except the change that you game to me:
This will never come again
I am me
I was so before you
But afterwards I am not the same
You are gone
And I am with you:
This will never come again

Time has come between us:
In the passing months I've felt you slip away
As your words and mine came like nursery rhymes
Till there was nothing left to say.
Distance came between us long ago,
As our memories faded away...
Over the miles I ceased to smile
Because nothing felt the same.
That's how it seemed a week ago,
Far off in time and space.
Time and distance are between us now,
They form a bond to make things sure.
Nothing ever shatters,
You know what happens:
Time and distance make a love secure.

When I was a child they made me read
Word-daggers of quiver and squirm
Now in the stumbling dark I see I am
A worm silently fruiting your garden
My sister my child night casts ominous
Meanings on the purity of my soul
I feel devilish leanings I'm beginning
To lose control and the vortex sucks
Me in steeped in sin I die but am
Reborn
I want to see the cosmos slip planets
And moons collide feel gravity lose
Its grip it's all inside all the dead
Husks are shattered my life-blood my
World ripped apart in the laughter of
Space it's all chaff blown out and lost
Now I am making the pace although I
Don't know what tape I'll cross maybe
Catastrophe when I cross the line I
Know that I will find myself or maybe
You
I am a man from the country of destruction
I am a man a woman and a god
I am my own weapon of kamikaze
And will one day cut through the
Hidden knot
Feed me honey and watch me rise to the
Bait lying on the knife if you let me I
Can hypnotize your life it's all really
So simple my lover my twin hand in hand
Sprinting down the highway running over
The edge on and on into our doomsday
There is no saving ledge nor outgrown
Shrub is this the way out in a blaze of
Glory some day I'll find the answer
Some day I'll end the story

They say we are endowed with Free Will -
at least that justifies our need for indecision.
But between our insticts and the lust to kill
we bow our heads in submission.
They say that no man is an island
but then they say our castles are our homes;
it's felt the choice is ours, between peace and violence...
oh, yes, we choose, alone?

While the comet spreads its tail across the sky
it nowhere near defines the course it flies,
nor does it find its own direction.

Though the path of the comet be sure,
its constitution is not
so its meaning is possibly more
than the tracing of a tail
in one brief shot at glory.

Love and peace and individuality,
so order and society are man-made?
War and hate and dark depravity,
or are we slaves?
Channeling aggressive energies,
the Death Wish and the Will to survive,
into finding and preserving enemies,
is that the only way we know that we're alive?

In the slaughterhouse all corpses smell the same,
whether queens or pawns or innocents at the game;
in the cemetery a uniform cloaks the graves
except for outward pomp and circumstance.

There is a time set in the calendar
when all reason seems barely enough
to sustain all the shooting stars:
times are rough.
I'm waiting for something to happen here,
it feels as though it's long overdue...
maybe a restatement of yesteryear
or something entirely new.

And the knowledge that we gain in part
always leads us closer to the very start,
and to the founding questions:
How can I tell that the road signed to hell
doesn't lead up to heaven?
What can I say when, in some obscure way,
I am my own direction?

Beside the pool of clear water,
fed by a secret spring, your lips are sealed,
but in your body language
angels sing.

I swear on the Bible,
swear on the sacred and profane
I think I'm drowning in the vortex
your eyes contain.
Your secret face,
show me your secret face.

With stars and moon light for shelter,
your breathing close in my ear,
the wind is whispering a mystery
for me to hear:
your secret name.

Tell me your secret name,
oasis in a desert world,
tell me your secret name.

Let me drink from the well of secrets,
pluck the fruit from the tree
and feel your secret world envelop me.

Your secret face,
show me your secret face.

Show me your secret face,
naked as the sun,
silent as the stars,
secret oasis in a desert world.

Out of joint, out of true,
out of love, out of the blue,
out of order, out of orbit, out of control,
out of touch, out of line,
out of sync and out of time,
out of gas, out of tread, out of road.

Out of date, out of stock,
out of use ? out, out, damned spot!
You want out, you want out of it for good.
Out of the running, out of the game,
out on your feet, clear out of range,
out of context, out of contact, out of the woods.

Out, out, looking for a way out,
no straws are left to cling to;
out, out, going for the fade-out...
but what do you fade into?

Out on the town, out for laughs,
out of service, out to grass,
out of mourning, out of purdah, out on bail,
out of kilter, out of grace,
out to get out of this place,
out of this world, out and out beyond the pale.

Right out of character, out of sympathy,
so far out upon a limb you're out of your tree...

Out of breath, out of tune,
out of your head and out of view,
down and out, out for the count, or is it just for revenge?
Out of sight, out of mind,
leave it out, leave it behind
out of reach of all family, all friends.

Out, out, going for the bale-out,
no parachute above you.
Out, out... you'll not feel the fall-out.

I wish I'd said "I love you".

Check the honesty of what's on offer,
true detective or a fake fakir?
All the evidence is circumstantial ?
as mud the evidence is clear.
Paranormal the investigation ?
where do things go when they disappear?
All the evidence has been trumped up…
as mud the evidence is clear,
I think we're on to something here,
I think we're into something,
I don't know but maybe we're all goldfish
in the mental sphere.

Evidently goldfish,
never questioning environment;
self-evidently goldfish,
we swim in circular experience.

Church of logical deliberation,
school of accidental wheels in gear,
surface knowledge is a serious matter,
a little consciousness is dangerous, dear;
all the evidence must be summed up ?
as mud the evidence is clear,
as mud the evidence is clear,
I think we're into something, I don't know but
maybe we're all goldfish in the mental sphere.

Evidently goldfish
never question their environment;
self-evidently goldfish,
we swim in circular experience;
evidently goldfish,
round and round and round and round
within our consciousness
in the mental sphere.

As mud the evidence is clear.

He'll be young forever if he keeps this up...
so the bedroom playboy's never going to grow up.
The heart is a secret garden
to which there are no short cuts.

Only green young fingers make the garden bloom;
for the serious young man now is always too soon.
The heart is a secret garden,
the head is a darkened room.

Close your eyes...
how does it feel to be in love?
Much too difficult, you shove
green fingers into gloves.

Get those fingers dirty ?
now you're getting warm;
blood those hands with passion,
turn your face to the storm.
The heart is a bed of roses,
the heart is a bed of thorns.

Bleed, green fingers, bleed.
Bleed, green fingers, bleed.

Some future memory stirs...
someone's always getting burned
if intensity holds true.
If it's real to be in love
how does it feel to be in love?
Green fingers stripped of gloves.

So
if it's just so then
where is it now when
I find the moment
uncertain?

Broken water pail ?
no moon in the water,
try to hold it now.

So
I want to hold on
reflection's all gone,
no ego ? so.

Broken water pail ?
no moon in the water,
try to hold it now,
broken water pail,
hold me in the moment,
no more ego now.

I would
drink the dregs of daylight,
break the bread of consciousness
and dream:
dream day for night,
nightfall around us,
waking, dreaming,
awake to the dream.

Broken water pail ?
no moon in the water,
try to hold it now,
hold me in the moment,
no more ego now,
no moon in the water,
no more ego now.

On the surface
phosphorus gleaming;
deep down we carry on dreaming.

On the surface
compass and charts checked;
deep down the currents run
in a shining vortex,
in a swirling vortex.

On the surface
oil troubled water
sails set the seas on fire
to the farthest quarter...
Are we dreaming?
Dream deep of childhood,
dream deep of future days ?
it'll all come good,
deep dreaming.

On the surface
head above water
legs kick the carry-on...
(dreaming) break the surface;
dreaming of long-lost childhood,
hoping for better days ?
it'll all come good,
deep dreaming.

It'll all come good,
deep dreaming.
It'll all come to the surface,
it'll all rise to the surface,
deep dreaming.

This one's authentic,
son of a gun,
a soundtrack from China
in the universal tongue...

The world is our oyster
to plunder at will,
though the palate is jaded
by all but the thrill
of fish out of water,
life in the raw...
without understanding
of what life's worth fighting for.

Out of universal language
some stuff never translates ?
the reports come in clusters
but for words it's too late...
six o'clock entertainment,
tears of anguish and rage...
in the zoos of the media
the spirit of moment is caged.

There's only one language
the whole world comprehends,
there's only one message
as the darkness descends...
Do you still have a question
or do you retract?
There's a whole world of difference
between the observer and the act.

They're playing World Music
in Tiananmen Square,
they're playing World Music
in Tiananmen Square,
the whistle of bullets in the air.

Everything clumsy slow-motion,
I look for the source.
Buildings loom up like icebergs
On collision course.
I don't want to go in there,
I just want to be alone,
Unpick the stitches of time
In London
In the no-go zone.
I've been kicking around like a dog,
Lost myself in the blank mass of fog,
It's some kind of service.
All humanity's fall-out is there,
Slumped in doorways
And mouthing cold air -
I have heard this.
Fogwalking, fogwalking.
Since the curfew
The streets are half-dead,
All the good folk asleep in their beds,
It's so easy to go off the rails
When the fog spores
Are breeding inside by head.
Fogwalking: there's a presence that I sense
Fogwalking: the neck muscles tense
Fogwalking: it's right here inside me,
Try to find a defense - oh, no.
Fogwalking through the wreckage,
Fogwalking through the worm-eaten
Night Apple,
Fogwalking through what used to be
Whitechapel.

Besieged in the battlements of Babylon,
Still looking for the hat-peg to hang your head upon -
Now you've found a place you think is Avalon:
You can talk to anyone here.
You can throw your arms around your nearest neighbour
And the smiling ones'll tell you that you've saved her,
That she's saved you...
They offer the golden promises
The instantly divine;
You swallow the golden promises
Hook, sinker and line.
If you choose to throw your soul around the attitude
Reasoning and independent thought go down the tube
As you go slavening after every inane platitude -
How weak you find yourself here.
Do you really need to lose yourself completely?
How come you seem to rate it all so cheaply?
It's so weak-kneed
To go for the golden promises,
Mail-order
Oly vows;
You go for the golden promises -
I think you really ought to know better by now.
So I do my best and I do my nut,
I try to explain all these angles
But you turn away.
Oh, now you're looking in the white of my eyes,
And you know what I'm going to say: -
Don't go for the golden promises,
Don't go for the easy way...
It's right here on the doorstep:
Fool's gold - don't throw your life away.

Dance the dance
dance the dance
till show time
the show goes on.

Dance the dance
dance the dance
in slow time
if that's what you want.

Dance the dance
in the back of the car
dance the dance
in the cocktail bar
till show time let it ride.

Dance the dance
I feel I've been here before,
dance the dance
this could be anywhere at all
in slow time.

Danced the dance,
or it soon will be;
danced the dance,
I'll be back here with me
in no time.

Danced the dance,
in no time danced the dance.
Danced the dance,
it's show time dance the dance
in slow time.

He prescribes the subject
He proscribes outsiders
His terms have a golden ring.
He wants to find some order

Quantifying chaos
In words that all the children sing.
He tabulates the lexicon
Vocabulary minimised

Bow down to the Jargon King.
All questions become so simple
If we eat the inane answer
If we all agree to ju-ju speak

We fit into the formula
We all without exception
Approve the rule.
We don't understand

He must be clever
He must be clever
He must be right
He must be right

We don't understand
Closed the ranks and barricades
Imposed the secret language
Complexity all catch-phrased

Word-drugged any anguish
Pigeon-holed allusions
Shut the vault behind us
It's an obvious conclusion

We'll be the chattels of His Highness.
Bow down to the Jargon King
And his minion code-words.
Here comes the reign

I just can't see why you can't see what I mean,
but I can't make things any plainer, the words get in the way -
is that quite what I mean?
If not now, then certainly sooner or later
we've got a problem with communication -
look, I scrabble with my hands
I try to get some head-room from the elevation
but you just don't understand
Most of the things we say mean we most of the time
treat our speech with derision,
flap our hands in body-telegram - I know that gets through
so much better than anything said with precision,
We've got a problem with communication
and it's getting quite absurd,,,
Well, I think I'm going to flip out from the sheer frustration,
yes, I'm losing faith in words,
We've got a problem with communication,
only getting through in anagrams -
I try to get some linkage from articulation,
I try to get some head-room from the elevation,
I try to pull back something from my education,,,
Yes, I try to, try to, try to but I just don't understand,
I try, I just don't understand,
I talk, you just don't understand,
Sometimes I don't know why I bother,
but I'm bothered,

Such distance to the tips of the fingers,
The ganglion loom jerks inside;
The body grows steadily stranger
But the spirit won't be denied.
That sharp halogen flash jars the eyeball,
The limbs pump in overdrive;
The body grows seemingly weaker
But the s
Pirit won't be denied.
Yeah, the ash-mark stands out on the forehead
As the vacuum sneaks up on the eyes;
The body becomes a constant traitor
But the spirit won't be denied.
And they call that living a normal live,
But normality's not standardized.
Though the body gets ever more root-bound
The spirit won't be denied
Yes, the spirit survives.

-------------
Lyrics Powered by LyricFind
Written By HAMMILL, PETER
<i>Lyrics &copy; EMI Music Publishing</i>

I stand on the tallest building
and stare down at the grey runway
and the tail-smoke of the Boeing jet
that's taking you so far away.

Believe me, I don't want you to leave me;
look in my eyes and you'll see them
filled with pain.
Imagine just how sad I'll be
in some future day when I turn
and no longer see your face.
All I can now cry is goodbye, love, goodbye.

In a week, in a month, in a year,
in a lifetime how I'll feel none can tell.
All I know is now you're going
there's really no-one here to help.

Believe me, I don't want you to leave me;
look in my eyes and you'll see them
filled with pain.
Imagine just how sad I'll be
in some future day when I turn
and no longer see your face.
All I can now cry is goodbye, love, goodbye.

Already it's too late, you're through the boarding-gate
and walking on the tarmac.
Already you are free, already you've left me
and cannot bear to look back, can you?

A brief taxi on the runway,
then up into the stilling night sky;
and I'm standing on the observation tower,
my eyes too dimmed by distance to cry.

Believe me, I don't want you to leave me;
look in my eyes and you'll see them
filled with pain.
Imagine just how sad I'll be
in some future day when I turn
and no longer see your face.
All I can now do is walk away alone,
without you.

Been alone so long
that I've forgotten what it's like
to feel somebody next to me
and hear her breathing peacefully
when I wake up at night.

Been alone so long
that I've forgotten what to say -
if I meet somebody who
might easily resemble you
I smile, but look away...
I look away.

Been alone so long
that I've forgotten what to do:
how to make the whole thing right
and how to help if she's uptight
and when to run and when to fight...
how to make her stay the night -
that's if I ever knew.

Been alone so long
that I've forgotten what it's like
to feel somebody next to me
and hear her breathing peacefully
when I wake up at night,
wake up at night

I've got something to say,
and it ain't the usual sort of sob-story
that you hear every day.
I've got something to ask,
and I know that now's the time,
now all the rooms of the party are dark.
Proffer me the candy,
yes, I understand is fine;
blow another candle out
and throw another line…
Birthday girl, I've got something for you,
there's ice in the cauldron, look out now;
birthday girl, here comes a special
like Hansel and Gretel never had.

There's parrots in the pantry
and there's lizards in the loo;
there's bloaters in the bathroom
and this party is a zoo;
I'm sitting in the kitchen
trying hard to talk to you
Birthday girl, I've got something for you,
there's ice in the cauldron, look out now;
birthday girl, here comes a special
like Hansel and Gretel never had.

I just wanted to say
that I'd like to make this the happiest of all your birthdays
and if that means turning the key
then I'll turn it with you and there'll be no doubt
about the way I agree,
Birthday girl, I've got something for you,
there's ice in the cauldron, look out now;
birthday girl, here comes a special
like Hansel and Gretel never had.

I've been hanging around, waiting for my chance
to tell you what I think about the music that's gone down
to which you madly danced ? frankly, you know that it stinks.
I'm gonna scream, gonna shout, gonna play my guitar
until your body's rigid and you see stars.

Look at all the jerks in their tinsel glitter suits.
pansying around; look at all the nerks
in their leather platform boots, making with the heavy sound...
I'm gonna stamp on the stardust and scream till I'm ill ?
if the guitar don't get ya, the drums will.

Now's my big break ? let me up on the stage,
I'll show you what it's all about; enough of the fake,
bang your feet in a rage, tear down the walls and let us out!
We're more than mere morons, perpetually conned,
so come on everybody, smash the system with the song.

Smash the system with the song!

Look out through your dark hair,
tell me the colour of your eyes when they're cool;
look out through the dark ages
and tell me what's covert, transfixing you.

Oh, you're nobody's business,
oh, you're nobody's business
and the patterns of your life
are suddenly twisted and torn
and gone are all the clothes that you've worn.
Just like yesterday's papers
you're tired and forlorn
and you're no-one.

Look back at the photos you've saved,
dead mementoes of your modelling days;
I look through all my cuttings of you,
but they all seem so lost, so dead, out of phase.

Oh, you're nobody's business....

I think back to the girl that I knew -
she doesn't seem so very much like you:
she used to care about her smile and not her face...
that's before it was her fortune and took over her soul's place.

Oh, you're nobody's business....

Papering yesterday's pages,
tapering off in the storm,
you're no-one.

I was sitting in the dance-hall,
but my mind was far away
so when the usherette walked over
I didn't know quite what to say.
I tried to look cool
but I knew that I blew it somehow.
Her fishnet tights took me quite by surprise...
I had to open my eyes.

I told her I was dancing
but she didn't seem to hear;
she asked if I wanted to learn judo,
then she threw me out on my ear
before I'd even had time to take a bow.
I landed on the street, all dishevelled my disguise
but I really opened her eyes.

So if you're leaning over the balcony
or hanging around the floor
these are the last of the days of the Locarnos--
there really are no more.
And the usherette smiles,
but she's not telling all she knows....
But there's time in the end for us all to get wise
if we only open our eyes.

Your father has just left your mother,
Gone off to live with his latest lover:
She sits there, just staring.
So you get back to your own flat
Because the atmosphere in there
Is so bad you can't bear it.
And the people you were going to America with
Just left on the dawn plane
Without you,
Without you.
The people in the downstairs flat
Are no longer there now because they left
The gas tap on, they're all dead.
So you've no-one left to talk to,
You just lie there in melancholy,
Half-naked on your unmade bed.
And the people you were going to Africa with
Just left on the Southern Star
Without you,
Without you.
Yes, the haze that's been forming round your window-panes
Is now protracted and poisoned
And you cannot feel a portion of the world outside.
Can you imagine the way you'd feel
If all these things had happened to you
And the doctor says you're dying?
That is the way that I feel now
On finding that your love belongs
To someone else and not I.
My chance of heaven has just blown away
Upon a passing cloud and there is nothing that I can do
Without you.
The people you were going to
Have left, gone far away
And you're lonely.

The golden dream, the seat of all decorum,
a satellite to match the light of Rome;
its silver children chatter in the Forum,
the bath-house, and the brothels, and their homes
about the latest fashions for their clothes.
Across the Tyrrhenian Sea comes drifting
a song that none of them have ever known.

The golden dream that holds back all the hours
for the ladies in their Dionysian rites,
blonde heads all garlanded with flowers,
wine and love and laughter through the night
in constant masque and pageant, constant flight.
The ground below them whispers in a murmur
of passion which is hotter yet than white.

The golden dream, the city of all cities,
its towers piercing into azure sky,
whose hand is dealt, regardless of all pity,
condemned to martyrdom, but not to die.
Two lovers look up from their hidden bower.
The wine has stood too long and it turns sour.

I see the tall and bending of your streets
but now they echo only leather tourist feet
and waking, ashen, grey-blue blinding death
your sudden winding-sheet.

You can see in the 1st light that's graced as dawn
That there's nothing in my heart but pain
As I stand, facing sea, knowing that you're gone
All the elements rage to explain
That I should really be on my way,
But there is something
Which ensures I must stay

Beneath the roar of the seething surf,
Beneath the caterwaul of scattered call wind
Thoughts and gestures unspoken, unheard
And now the dance of rapture begins
As the waves rush along across the beach
Like you, like your love
Forever out of reach

Look at the sky, but it's empty now;
Look at the sea, it holds nothing but despair
I raise my eyes, but my head stays bower...
I look to my side, but you're not there
And I can't get you out of my mind,
No, no, no, no, I just can't get you from my mind

It was the first day of July;
no wind breathed in the sky
when a pin-striped suit
saw that the Institute of Mental Health was burning.

He stood upon the corner
where the sun was warmer...
looking across the street,
he moved the shackles on his feet
as the Institute was burning.

Flames were roaring, singing like a thunderstorm;
smoke was pouring straight up to the sky;
windows smashing, Gothic doors and lintels fall;
timbers crashing and we both know why.

Nobody else came by to stare;
you see, they didn't really care.
Can't call the fire brigade -
none of them had been paid
and so the Institute was burning.

Throughout the city, people say it isn't pretty,
everyone agrees, and everyone feels glad;
doctored brains celebrate and everyone waves their chains...
It's a pity they're all mad.

The Institute of Mental Health
spontaneously killed itself.
Ashes to ashes
and dust to dust:
my chains began to rust
as the Institute was burning, burning, burning.

(Chris Judge Smith)

spoken by Hugh Banton: "Oh, why didn't you say, more Stevie Wonder?"

"Sod the music," said the man in the suit,
"I understand profit and without that, it's no use.
Why don't you go away and write commercial songs;
come back in three years, that shouldn't be too long…"
He's a joker and an acrobat,
a record exec. in a Mayfair flat
with Altec speakers wall to wall,
a Radford and a Revox and through it all he plays
strictly nowhere Muzak.

"Hey, listen, baby, this band's got a lot of soul…
if we can beat that out of them I see a disc of gold!
Give them an image, maybe glitter, maybe sex,
maybe outrage, maybe elegance ?
how about as nervous wrecks?"
Signs up the product at two percent,
justified by vinyl shortage and the increased rent
on the yacht he has to hire to make his pitch at Midem
and all the press receptions for his business friends
who spill their Taittinger upon the floor
while the band sip English lager just outside the door.

Treble, alto, bass clefs on the page,
crotchets, quavers, minims all the rage
but you'll never find a pound note in the score ?
it's there when it's strictly merchandise,
through all the propagated lies about what the whole thing's for.
He'll make you a star, he'll make you so famous
that all you desire is to be left nameless,
drained of all you felt you had to offer at the start.
He knows what eats your heart.
That's too bad.

Not without blame, either, are the gentlemen of the press:
you can talk about the state of music,
they will write about your dress.
Play them the new album, they will say it's great (or not) ?
when the articles come out, they're all about
how many dogs you've got.
God to keep the human interest high,
and the hacks are only too willing to comply,
pander to the ego, build up frail men as gods ?
but somewhere in the process, the prime purpose is forgotten.
Now I bet you thought that was a hard line to sing
but I've done it anyway, it's my thing!

Groupies offer their bodies, the hangers-on their coke;
it's all very jolly ? what a joke!
Fellini creatures cluster round the dressing-room,
the heavenly bodies all got to have their moons.
In the cult of the superman the music plays a supporting role
and far more important is the shape of his nose,
the size of his codpiece and the cut of his clothes…
soul and feeling always take second place
to the bump and grind of a Fender bass.
Frankly, most musicians bore me ? but not as much as those
who chase the glory to bask in reflected light,
making the man much more important
than his arpeggios and mordants,
when it's the other way that's right.

On the values by which this world makes its heroes
then the best violinist ever was Nero,
because he had the most Press
and his fire gimmick was simply the best.

We got the live thing too,
the Human Zoo:
Ten thousand arms are raised, just like the Hitler Youth ?
might think you were at Nuremberg, if it weren't for all the groovers.
Ten thousand peace signs mark the entry of the sax.
Ten thousand peace signs,
but they're different from the back.

I stretch my hands
Clutch vacant laughter
In silence and sweet, sweet pain
Without demand
But with a longing
For what will never come again
I smell your perfume
On the sheets in the morning
It linger like the patterns
On the window after rain
A past that lives
If only for the present...
Which is gone and will never come again
To your sad eyes
Turned away, mine say
'Do you? Did you? How?'
As the darkness
Slides away the day
Shows what was
And makes what is now
I see your picture
As though it were a mirror
But there's no part of you
Outside the frame
Except the change that you game to me:
This will never come again
I am me
I was so before you
But afterwards I am not the same
You are gone
And I am with you:
This will never come again

Been alone so long
that I've forgotten what it's like
to feel somebody next to me
and hear her breathing peacefully
when I wake up at night.

Been alone so long
that I've forgotten what to say -
if I meet somebody who
might easily resemble you
I smile, but look away...
I look away.

Been alone so long
that I've forgotten what to do:
how to make the whole thing right
and how to help if she's uptight
and when to run and when to fight...
how to make her stay the night -
that's if I ever knew.

Been alone so long
that I've forgotten what it's like
to feel somebody next to me
and hear her breathing peacefully
when I wake up at night,
wake up at night

You don't have to say a thing,
the silence is sweet;
we've been together today
in a way we might never repeat.
Oh, your head on the pillow,
the distance in your eyes ?
already you might be
rehearsing the word "Goodbye".

When the evening comes of this perfect day,
when the shadows run will you look away,
will you slip away?
Don't tell me anything.

You don't have to say a word,
all too well I understand:
there's a nervous tension
in the touch of your gentle hand.
That makes me afraid ?
I've seen you like this before...
the moment you find somebody new
you find yourself bored.
Oh, I don't want to lose you.

When the evening comes of this perfect day,
when the shadows run will you look away,
will you slip away?
Don't tell me anything.

Now the evening's come,
now I'm left alone;
now the passion's done
and you're going home...
oh, when will you telephone?
You don't tell me anything.
No, you don't even tell me
the bell won't ring.

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.

Drawing back the curtains,
sluggish city daylight in the afternoon...
here's that special silence,
just before you walk out of the hotel room.
Each time we're so close I assume
that we'll never be again.
Oh, how long can we pretend
that we're just good friends?

A casual affair is all that you can spare
from your emotional change;
a calendar of meetings, strangers on the street
the best we ever arrange.
Now I just can't stand all the pain,
all the constant make and mend:
how long must we pretend
that we're just good friends?

I gave you my devotion,
hiding nothing up my sleeve.
If I walked clean out of your life
would you even notice me leave?
So much tangled-up emotion,
should I stay or should I go?
If I walked clean out of your life
how long would it take you to know?
Are we such good friends?

You used to say "I love you",
you used to say "You make me feel alive and young".
Now we're just a habit,
a flavour, once a month, to titillate your tongue.
Oh, how sordid this has become
as the means approach the end ?
oh, how long can we pretend
that we're still good friends?

I gave you my devotion,
hiding nothing up my sleeve.
If I walked clean out of your life
would you even notice me leave?
So much tangled-up emotion,
should I stay or should I go?
If I walked clean out of your life
how long would it take you to know?
Are we such good friends?

Are we still good friends?

In my time I've told a lie or two,
I've been a deceiver, but believe me
what I now say is true.
There's no other way
I can express what I'm thinking of:
You're my favourite,
you're the one that I love.

It's a one-horse race,
still I'm ready to place my bet.
I'm a pretty slow starter,
and I haven't quite caught up with it yet.
It seems so extraordinary
that you should care for me.
You're my favourite ?
how lucky can any man be?

You're my favourite ?
will you stay the course with me?

You're my favourite of all time.
You're my favourite, can't you see?
You're my favourite of all time.
Say you'll stay the course with me.

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.

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

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.

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?

I stretch my hands
Clutch vacant laughter
In silence and sweet, sweet pain
Without demand
But with a longing
For what will never come again
I smell your perfume
On the sheets in the morning
It linger like the patterns
On the window after rain
A past that lives
If only for the present...
Which is gone and will never come again
To your sad eyes
Turned away, mine say
'Do you? Did you? How?'
As the darkness
Slides away the day
Shows what was
And makes what is now
I see your picture
As though it were a mirror
But there's no part of you
Outside the frame
Except the change that you game to me:
This will never come again
I am me
I was so before you
But afterwards I am not the same
You are gone
And I am with you:
This will never come again

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?

Been alone so long
that I've forgotten what it's like
to feel somebody next to me
and hear her breathing peacefully
when I wake up at night.

Been alone so long
that I've forgotten what to say -
if I meet somebody who
might easily resemble you
I smile, but look away...
I look away.

Been alone so long
that I've forgotten what to do:
how to make the whole thing right
and how to help if she's uptight
and when to run and when to fight...
how to make her stay the night -
that's if I ever knew.

Been alone so long
that I've forgotten what it's like
to feel somebody next to me
and hear her breathing peacefully
when I wake up at night,
wake up at night

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.

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 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.

Drawing back the curtains,
sluggish city daylight in the afternoon...
here's that special silence,
just before you walk out of the hotel room.
Each time we're so close I assume
that we'll never be again.
Oh, how long can we pretend
that we're just good friends?

A casual affair is all that you can spare
from your emotional change;
a calendar of meetings, strangers on the street
the best we ever arrange.
Now I just can't stand all the pain,
all the constant make and mend:
how long must we pretend
that we're just good friends?

I gave you my devotion,
hiding nothing up my sleeve.
If I walked clean out of your life
would you even notice me leave?
So much tangled-up emotion,
should I stay or should I go?
If I walked clean out of your life
how long would it take you to know?
Are we such good friends?

You used to say "I love you",
you used to say "You make me feel alive and young".
Now we're just a habit,
a flavour, once a month, to titillate your tongue.
Oh, how sordid this has become
as the means approach the end ?
oh, how long can we pretend
that we're still good friends?

I gave you my devotion,
hiding nothing up my sleeve.
If I walked clean out of your life
would you even notice me leave?
So much tangled-up emotion,
should I stay or should I go?
If I walked clean out of your life
how long would it take you to know?
Are we such good friends?

Are we still good friends?

In Germany, his days finally caught him;
I won't insult his memory with long-distance grief.
Tears and wakes weren't his style:
not him,
not for Keith.

He'd have laughed in my face
if he saw it get mournful,
he'd pull me up short and say "Life carries on"
in that gentle way of being cruelly scornful...
now he's gone.

"I want to see it all, and eat it"
was as close to ethos as he came;
though he knew he couldn't beat it,
he never gave of himself
anything less than best in the game.
Oh, one for the game...

I never did say, I never quite found time ?
he taught me a lot, and I carry it still.
I never thanked him at all for his friendship
and now I never will.

The diaries we write are those that we crave for,
we never put the P.S. at the foot of the final page.
He deserved more time,
but he never was made for middle age,
not for middle age.
Not for Keith.

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.

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.

You can see in the 1st light that's graced as dawn
That there's nothing in my heart but pain
As I stand, facing sea, knowing that you're gone
All the elements rage to explain
That I should really be on my way,
But there is something
Which ensures I must stay

Beneath the roar of the seething surf,
Beneath the caterwaul of scattered call wind
Thoughts and gestures unspoken, unheard
And now the dance of rapture begins
As the waves rush along across the beach
Like you, like your love
Forever out of reach

Look at the sky, but it's empty now;
Look at the sea, it holds nothing but despair
I raise my eyes, but my head stays bower...
I look to my side, but you're not there
And I can't get you out of my mind,
No, no, no, no, I just can't get you from my mind

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.

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.

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

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.

A perfect date to hesitate,
I hope it won't be too long.

You're a sucker for the punch
and the telegraph bells are ringing;
now it's coming to the crunch
as you stumble on the Jaffa Gate.
I think you know how it happens on the stage
when the heavenly choir are singing ?
you've been taken by a perfect date.

You made the Mount of Venus your Jerusalem,
you're marking time as symbol for debate;
you hope to find some moment close to infinite,
you hope to find a perfect date.

A perfect date to hesitate.
The future beckons us on.
There comes a time to hesitate ?
I hope it won't be too long.

You're a sucker for the punch
and the telegraph bells are ringing;
now it's coming to the crunch
as you stumble on the Jaffa Gate.
I think you know how it happens on the stage
when the heavenly choir are singing ?
yeah, you've been taken by a perfect date.

You've been playing on a hunch
and the strings of your heart are zinging.
Yeah, you cut loose from the bunch
but that doesn't mean you've sealed your fate.
I think you know how it happens,
though it's strange, when the choir start singing:
you've been taken by a perfect date.

I've got something to say,
and it ain't the usual sort of sob-story
that you hear every day.
I've got something to ask,
and I know that now's the time,
now all the rooms of the party are dark.
Proffer me the candy,
yes, I understand is fine;
blow another candle out
and throw another line…
Birthday girl, I've got something for you,
there's ice in the cauldron, look out now;
birthday girl, here comes a special
like Hansel and Gretel never had.

There's parrots in the pantry
and there's lizards in the loo;
there's bloaters in the bathroom
and this party is a zoo;
I'm sitting in the kitchen
trying hard to talk to you
Birthday girl, I've got something for you,
there's ice in the cauldron, look out now;
birthday girl, here comes a special
like Hansel and Gretel never had.

I just wanted to say
that I'd like to make this the happiest of all your birthdays
and if that means turning the key
then I'll turn it with you and there'll be no doubt
about the way I agree,
Birthday girl, I've got something for you,
there's ice in the cauldron, look out now;
birthday girl, here comes a special
like Hansel and Gretel never had.

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

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

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!

Besieged in the battlements of Babylon,
Still looking for the hat-peg to hang your head upon -
Now you've found a place you think is Avalon:
You can talk to anyone here.
You can throw your arms around your nearest neighbour
And the smiling ones'll tell you that you've saved her,
That she's saved you...
They offer the golden promises
The instantly divine;
You swallow the golden promises
Hook, sinker and line.
If you choose to throw your soul around the attitude
Reasoning and independent thought go down the tube
As you go slavening after every inane platitude -
How weak you find yourself here.
Do you really need to lose yourself completely?
How come you seem to rate it all so cheaply?
It's so weak-kneed
To go for the golden promises,
Mail-order
Oly vows;
You go for the golden promises -
I think you really ought to know better by now.
So I do my best and I do my nut,
I try to explain all these angles
But you turn away.
Oh, now you're looking in the white of my eyes,
And you know what I'm going to say: -
Don't go for the golden promises,
Don't go for the easy way...
It's right here on the doorstep:
Fool's gold - don't throw your life away.

(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?)

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.

I've been hanging around, waiting for my chance
to tell you what I think about the music that's gone down
to which you madly danced ? frankly, you know that it stinks.
I'm gonna scream, gonna shout, gonna play my guitar
until your body's rigid and you see stars.

Look at all the jerks in their tinsel glitter suits.
pansying around; look at all the nerks
in their leather platform boots, making with the heavy sound...
I'm gonna stamp on the stardust and scream till I'm ill ?
if the guitar don't get ya, the drums will.

Now's my big break ? let me up on the stage,
I'll show you what it's all about; enough of the fake,
bang your feet in a rage, tear down the walls and let us out!
We're more than mere morons, perpetually conned,
so come on everybody, smash the system with the song.

Smash the system with the song!

Look out through your dark hair,
tell me the colour of your eyes when they're cool;
look out through the dark ages
and tell me what's covert, transfixing you.

Oh, you're nobody's business,
oh, you're nobody's business
and the patterns of your life
are suddenly twisted and torn
and gone are all the clothes that you've worn.
Just like yesterday's papers
you're tired and forlorn
and you're no-one.

Look back at the photos you've saved,
dead mementoes of your modelling days;
I look through all my cuttings of you,
but they all seem so lost, so dead, out of phase.

Oh, you're nobody's business....

I think back to the girl that I knew -
she doesn't seem so very much like you:
she used to care about her smile and not her face...
that's before it was her fortune and took over her soul's place.

Oh, you're nobody's business....

Papering yesterday's pages,
tapering off in the storm,
you're no-one.

Won't hear a sound at Porton Down,
The clear liquids keep their silence,
Buried underground at Porton Down
The fast form of the final violence.

Quite right to be worried about the proliferation
Of nuclear bombs and power stations,
But there's a deterrent that's going to
Unearth us yet...

Hurry on round about Porton Down,
A quick glimpse of the future warfare
Hidden under ground at Porton Down;
Far too frightening to utter what you saw there.

They got bacteria to drop us where we stand,
They got diseases still unknown to man,
They got the virus and a microgram's enough
To do in a continent.

The ultimate madness,
Just one shattered test-tube to wipe out the world.

It begins with the mustard gas,
It proceeds to Hiroshima.
The culture moves on -
Now it's bacterial, truly insane.
Porton Down waits to fever the brain.

Won't hear a sound at Porton Down,
The clear liquids keep their silence
Buried underground at Porton Down,
The fast form of the final violence.

Hurry on round about Porton Down
A quick glimpse of the future warfare,
Hidden underground at Porton Down,
Far too frightening to say what you saw there.

No sound at Porton Down,
From Porton Down,
After Porton Down.

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.

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?

When I was a child they made me read
Word-daggers of quiver and squirm
Now in the stumbling dark I see I am
A worm silently fruiting your garden
My sister my child night casts ominous
Meanings on the purity of my soul
I feel devilish leanings I'm beginning
To lose control and the vortex sucks
Me in steeped in sin I die but am
Reborn
I want to see the cosmos slip planets
And moons collide feel gravity lose
Its grip it's all inside all the dead
Husks are shattered my life-blood my
World ripped apart in the laughter of
Space it's all chaff blown out and lost
Now I am making the pace although I
Don't know what tape I'll cross maybe
Catastrophe when I cross the line I
Know that I will find myself or maybe
You
I am a man from the country of destruction
I am a man a woman and a god
I am my own weapon of kamikaze
And will one day cut through the
Hidden knot
Feed me honey and watch me rise to the
Bait lying on the knife if you let me I
Can hypnotize your life it's all really
So simple my lover my twin hand in hand
Sprinting down the highway running over
The edge on and on into our doomsday
There is no saving ledge nor outgrown
Shrub is this the way out in a blaze of
Glory some day I'll find the answer
Some day I'll end the story

Such distance to the tips of the fingers,
The ganglion loom jerks inside;
The body grows steadily stranger
But the spirit won't be denied.
That sharp halogen flash jars the eyeball,
The limbs pump in overdrive;
The body grows seemingly weaker
But the s
Pirit won't be denied.
Yeah, the ash-mark stands out on the forehead
As the vacuum sneaks up on the eyes;
The body becomes a constant traitor
But the spirit won't be denied.
And they call that living a normal live,
But normality's not standardized.
Though the body gets ever more root-bound
The spirit won't be denied
Yes, the spirit survives.

-------------
Lyrics Powered by LyricFind
Written By HAMMILL, PETER
<i>Lyrics &copy; EMI Music Publishing</i>

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.

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?

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.

Drawing back the curtains,
sluggish city daylight in the afternoon...
here's that special silence,
just before you walk out of the hotel room.
Each time we're so close I assume
that we'll never be again.
Oh, how long can we pretend
that we're just good friends?

A casual affair is all that you can spare
from your emotional change;
a calendar of meetings, strangers on the street
the best we ever arrange.
Now I just can't stand all the pain,
all the constant make and mend:
how long must we pretend
that we're just good friends?

I gave you my devotion,
hiding nothing up my sleeve.
If I walked clean out of your life
would you even notice me leave?
So much tangled-up emotion,
should I stay or should I go?
If I walked clean out of your life
how long would it take you to know?
Are we such good friends?

You used to say "I love you",
you used to say "You make me feel alive and young".
Now we're just a habit,
a flavour, once a month, to titillate your tongue.
Oh, how sordid this has become
as the means approach the end ?
oh, how long can we pretend
that we're still good friends?

I gave you my devotion,
hiding nothing up my sleeve.
If I walked clean out of your life
would you even notice me leave?
So much tangled-up emotion,
should I stay or should I go?
If I walked clean out of your life
how long would it take you to know?
Are we such good friends?

Are we still good friends?

(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?)

Look out through your dark hair,
tell me the colour of your eyes when they're cool;
look out through the dark ages
and tell me what's covert, transfixing you.

Oh, you're nobody's business,
oh, you're nobody's business
and the patterns of your life
are suddenly twisted and torn
and gone are all the clothes that you've worn.
Just like yesterday's papers
you're tired and forlorn
and you're no-one.

Look back at the photos you've saved,
dead mementoes of your modelling days;
I look through all my cuttings of you,
but they all seem so lost, so dead, out of phase.

Oh, you're nobody's business....

I think back to the girl that I knew -
she doesn't seem so very much like you:
she used to care about her smile and not her face...
that's before it was her fortune and took over her soul's place.

Oh, you're nobody's business....

Papering yesterday's pages,
tapering off in the storm,
you're no-one.

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.

Won't hear a sound at Porton Down,
The clear liquids keep their silence,
Buried underground at Porton Down
The fast form of the final violence.

Quite right to be worried about the proliferation
Of nuclear bombs and power stations,
But there's a deterrent that's going to
Unearth us yet...

Hurry on round about Porton Down,
A quick glimpse of the future warfare
Hidden under ground at Porton Down;
Far too frightening to utter what you saw there.

They got bacteria to drop us where we stand,
They got diseases still unknown to man,
They got the virus and a microgram's enough
To do in a continent.

The ultimate madness,
Just one shattered test-tube to wipe out the world.

It begins with the mustard gas,
It proceeds to Hiroshima.
The culture moves on -
Now it's bacterial, truly insane.
Porton Down waits to fever the brain.

Won't hear a sound at Porton Down,
The clear liquids keep their silence
Buried underground at Porton Down,
The fast form of the final violence.

Hurry on round about Porton Down
A quick glimpse of the future warfare,
Hidden underground at Porton Down,
Far too frightening to say what you saw there.

No sound at Porton Down,
From Porton Down,
After Porton Down.