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from A Tribute To Polnareff [tribute] (2000) | |||||
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from Peter Hammill - A Black Box (2003)
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. |
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from Peter Hammill - A Black Box (2003)
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, |
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from Peter Hammill - A Black Box (2003)
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 |
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from Peter Hammill - A Black Box (2003)
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. |
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from Peter Hammill - A Black Box (2003)
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 © EMI Music Publishing</i> |
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from Peter Hammill - A Black Box (2003)
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. |
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from Peter Hammill - A Black Box (2003) | |||||
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from Peter Hammill - A Black Box (2003) | |||||
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from Peter Hammill - Nadir's Big Chance (2003)
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! |
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from Peter Hammill - Nadir's Big Chance (2003)
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) |
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from Peter Hammill - Nadir's Big Chance (2003)
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. |
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from Peter Hammill - Nadir's Big Chance (2003)
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. |
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from Peter Hammill - Nadir's Big Chance (2003)
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 |
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from Peter Hammill - Nadir's Big Chance (2003)
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. |
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from Peter Hammill - Nadir's Big Chance (2003)
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 |
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from Peter Hammill - Nadir's Big Chance (2003)
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. |
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from Peter Hammill - Nadir's Big Chance (2003)
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. |
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from Peter Hammill - Nadir's Big Chance (2003)
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. |
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from Peter Hammill - Nadir's Big Chance (2003)
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. |
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from Peter Hammill - The Love Songs (2003)
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? |
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from Peter Hammill - The Love Songs (2003)
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. |
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from Peter Hammill - The Love Songs (2003)
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 |
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from Peter Hammill - The Love Songs (2003)
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. |
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from Peter Hammill - The Love Songs (2003)
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 |
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from Peter Hammill - The Love Songs (2003)
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. |
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from Peter Hammill - The Love Songs (2003)
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. |
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from Peter Hammill - The Love Songs (2003)
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. |
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from Peter Hammill - The Love Songs (2003)
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 |
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from Peter Hammill - The Love Songs (2003) | |||||
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from Peter Hammill - The Calm After The Storm Vol.1 (2003)
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. |
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from Peter Hammill - The Calm After The Storm Vol.1 (2003)
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. |
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from Peter Hammill - The Calm After The Storm Vol.1 (2003)
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 |
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from Peter Hammill - The Calm After The Storm Vol.1 (2003) | |||||
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from Peter Hammill - The Calm After The Storm Vol.1 (2003)
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? |
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from Peter Hammill - The Calm After The Storm Vol.1 (2003) | |||||
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from Peter Hammill - The Calm After The Storm Vol.1 (2003)
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 |
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from Peter Hammill - The Calm After The Storm Vol.1 (2003)
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. |
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from Peter Hammill - The Calm After The Storm Vol.1 (2003)
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. |
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from Peter Hammill - The Calm After The Storm Vol.1 (2003)
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? |
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from Peter Hammill - The Calm After The Storm Vol.1 (2003)
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. |
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from Peter Hammill - The Calm After The Storm Vol.1 (2003)
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. |
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from Peter Hammill - The Calm After The Storm Vol.1 (2003)
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. |
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from Peter Hammill - The Calm After The Storm Vol.1 (2003)
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 |
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from Peter Hammill - The Calm After The Storm Vol.1 (2003)
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 |
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from Peter Hammill - The Calm After The Storm Vol.1 (2003)
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. |
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from Peter Hammill - The Calm After The Storm Vol.1 (2003)
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? |
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from Peter Hammill - The Calm After The Storm Vol.1 (2003)
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. |
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from Peter Hammill - The Calm After The Storm Vol.2 (2003)
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! |
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from Peter Hammill - The Calm After The Storm Vol.2 (2003)
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. |
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from Peter Hammill - The Calm After The Storm Vol.2 (2003)
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. |
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from Peter Hammill - The Calm After The Storm Vol.2 (2003)
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 © EMI Music Publishing</i> |
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from Peter Hammill - The Calm After The Storm Vol.2 (2003)
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. |
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from Peter Hammill - The Calm After The Storm Vol.2 (2003)
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 |
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from Peter Hammill - The Calm After The Storm Vol.2 (2003)
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. |
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from Peter Hammill - The Calm After The Storm Vol.2 (2003)
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 |
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from Peter Hammill - The Calm After The Storm Vol.2 (2003)
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. |
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from Peter Hammill - The Calm After The Storm Vol.2 (2003)
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. |
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from Peter Hammill - The Calm After The Storm Vol.2 (2003)
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.) |
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from Peter Hammill - The Calm After The Storm Vol.2 (2003)
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? |
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from Peter Hammill - The Calm After The Storm Vol.2 (2003)
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! |
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from Peter Hammill - The Calm After The Storm Vol.2 (2003)
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. |
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from Peter Hammill - The Calm After The Storm Vol.2 (2003)
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. |
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from Peter Hammill - The Calm After The Storm Vol.2 (2003)
(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?) |
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from Peter Hammill - The Calm After The Storm Vol.2 (2003)
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 |
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from Peter Hammill - After The Show (2003)
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. |
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from Peter Hammill - After The Show (2003)
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. |
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from Peter Hammill - After The Show (2003)
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? |
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from Peter Hammill - After The Show (2003)
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. |
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from Peter Hammill - After The Show (2003)
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. |
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from Peter Hammill - After The Show (2003)
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. |
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from Peter Hammill - After The Show (2003)
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 © EMI Music Publishing</i> |
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from Peter Hammill - After The Show (2003)
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. |
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from Peter Hammill - After The Show (2003)
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. |
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from Peter Hammill - After The Show (2003)
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. |
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from Peter Hammill - After The Show (2003)
(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?) |
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from Peter Hammill - After The Show (2003)
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. |
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from Peter Hammill - After The Show (2003)
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? |
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from Peter Hammill - After The Show (2003)
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. |
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from Peter Hammill - Fool's Mate (2005)
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 |
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from Peter Hammill - Fool's Mate (2005)
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 |
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from Peter Hammill - Fool's Mate (2005)
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 |
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from Peter Hammill - Fool's Mate (2005)
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 |
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from Peter Hammill - Fool's Mate (2005)
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. |
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from Peter Hammill - Fool's Mate (2005)
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 |
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from Peter Hammill - Fool's Mate (2005)
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. |
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from Peter Hammill - Fool's Mate (2005)
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 |
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from Peter Hammill - Fool's Mate (2005)
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 |
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from Peter Hammill - Fool's Mate (2005)
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 ------------- Lyrics Powered by LyricFind Written By PETER HAMMILL Lyrics © WINDSWEPT HOLDINGS LLC, CARLIN AMERICA INC, R & M MUSIC PRODUCTIONS INC |
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from Peter Hammill - Fool's Mate (2005)
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 |
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from Peter Hammill - Fool's Mate (2005)
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.... |
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from Peter Hammill - Fool's Mate (2005)
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 |
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from Peter Hammill - Fool's Mate (2005) | |||||
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from Peter Hammill - Fool's Mate (2005)
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 |
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from Peter Hammill - Fool's Mate (2005)
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. |
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from Peter Hammill - Fool's Mate (2005)
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 |
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from Peter Hammill - Over (2006)
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 |
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from Peter Hammill - Over (2006)
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? |
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from Peter Hammill - Over (2006)
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. |
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from Peter Hammill - Over (2006) |