vdgg

All that we see illusory
every assumption based on blind faith alone....
On with the motley, bring it home!

Everything's formed from particles,
all that you see is a construction of waves.
Hold onto both thoughts,
under general relativity
the cradle connected to the grave.

Luminous Aether dissipates,
Michelson-Morley with a point to disprove,
Millikan oil drops
and the cargo-cult science evaporates,
improbable physics on the move.

Nearer and nearer,
it's clear that in interference
what happens when matter shatters

Jack and Gillian, facing their decline,
take to the dance floor for one final time.
Who'd deny them this last shot?
Taking a twirl, are they in the final reel - or not?

Jack and Gillian, walking hand in hand,
disappearing along the shining strand.
Who'd deny them this state of grace?
So we find them with not a single hair out of place,
picture-perfect, matching pace for pace,
her head on his shoulder, his arm around her waist.
But if you put them on the spot
what would they say?
Are they in the final reel or what?

Sayonara, tschuss, adieu, farewell.

I can remember it so well,
the bed of roses where we lay,
the crown of thorns I was so keen to give away.
All the warning signs ignored,
the passion's played.

I could foresee what was to come,
I had a sense of what might happen.
The river runs and very rapidly
becomes a torrent, sweeping us
towards our ricochet.

It takes a lifetime to unravel all the threads
that have tied us in our webs of tourniquet.

I stake no claim on memory.
I stand on ceremonial quicksand.
I look for something with solidity
to hold:

A charmed circle on the dance floor,
a spell-binding display...
it's rather more than he bargained for,
Snow White or Morgan le Fay.

"Drop dead", she said.

Hey, big man, let testosterone flow,
flex the muscles like a monkey.
The male plumage is all puffed up in show
but the girls know how to debunk it.

"Drop dead", she said.

In a sense
some men are always caught in adolescence,
trying to crack the mystery girl cocoon.
It doesn't take a wicked witch
to point out obsolescence is a state
they might wake up to pretty soon.

Dive in to the Motion of the Avatar,
sign up to the Army of the Phantom.
No-one's really who they say they are,
they're all imposters on the stand in witness.

Welcome to the Power of Self-deception,
head high in the grip of Holy Deadlock.
Don't count on the way your days are numbered,
listen to the wind which whips your every word away.

Word-drunk, has the Inquisition found you?
Weight falls on your shoulders, under pressure.
Black dog in the desert heat will hound you -
hang on, only Faith is holding us together.

I don't know if I'm cracking up or just getting careless....
is this room quite airless?
Just a minute - listen,
did you hear that knock on the door?

I'm going to have to write things down before I forget them.
I can't find my glasses, I don't know where I left them
so I can't expect to get much on the visionary score,
or did I say all that before?

Oh, stop if you've heard this one before I get started.
I can't find my mobile and I didn't charge it,
it's a phantom target,
if I call myself I'll only get my Voicemail once more.

Let's recount our history,
our tale of boom and bust.
We could talk a good fight on our day
but when we got a hand to play we bit the dust.
Now in our threadbare suits we do our duty,
still sold on the pursuit of a common cause.

Now let us call to memory such witness as we dare.
We built our bridges, burned them down as well,
maybe all we have to tell is off the square.
We tried our instant remedies - they didn't clear the air.
Who could foresee how it was bound to end,
in a break or in a bend?
We intended well enough....
Oh, but the clock was always counting,

I dreamed you here beside me,
radiant, impulsively strong.
Light streaming through us blindly,
we are not here for long.

I dreamed us from the ether,
bursting through the neural stem,
vibration without meter...
we are not here again.

We are not here again.
(No way to know that when)
We are not here again.
(there is no now in then)

We are not here again.

(We are not there and then we are.
Henceforth we are not here again.)

(released first on the B side of "Theme One" single.
Included as Bonus Track in the 2005 reissue of Pawn Hearts)

Life is an endless succession of waves,
you're happy and you're sad
and you don't appreciate the good times
until you'e in the bad....
You wake up one morning - w -
and you're twice as unhappy
as you've ever been before in your life.

You wake up, go to the window
and see smoke billowing across the lawn.
You pick your feet up, drag yourself downstairs
and you're gone.
You wake up one morning - w -

(released first on the B side of "Refugees" single)

Horus, the son of Isis, lay in the marshes of Buto,
poisoned by Set.
She called out to the High God Ra
to kill this evil, that her child may live yet.
Casting aside her present fears
she called out on the Boat of Millions of Years...
Ra came and saw
and stopped the sun until he had cured
the life of the innocent.

Horus the Good lived in the North,
in lands of fertility and beauty
but Set stayed in the hard desert,
to him belonged all drought and perversity.
While he sheds his tears