Peter Hammill - Over 1976

  1. Crying Wolf
  2. Autumn
  3. Time Heals
  4. Alice (Letting Go)
  5. This Side Of The Looking-glass
  6. Betrayed
  7. (On Tuesday She Used To Do) Yoga
  8. Lost And Found


    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 whay makes you perfect?
    Is this what makes you free?
    Just how long do you rehearse it,
        or does it just come naturally?
    Crying wolf from the depth of you 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?
    Untill all your friends and lovers
    are simply bored with the pretence?
    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 have made yourself a perfect stranger;
    baying at the moon both night and day
    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 and slack jowls
    you'll be left a lonely man.
    And when it's nearly finished
    and you know the end is near
    with true sorrow undiminished
    there'll be no-one left to hear -
        your desperate cries,
        they all come out as bleats:
        and though you were a wolf-man.
    but you're really
            just a sheep.


    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 live
        - 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 sorrow 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?


    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: 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 - 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: strings of half-forgotten sentiments...
    I mean...
    I meant...
    I never really quite could say the way it was.


    When you told me that you loved me
    I had no reason to doubt it
    so I went about my life in such a selfish way
    and never really thought about it.
    Oh do I have to let go?
    Oh I had my chance and I've blown it,
    cos I loved you so much all these years
    and somewhere in myself, between my pride and fear
    just couldn't find a way to show it.
    I know it doesn't give you joy to give me such pain
    but you're in love with him now, my old friend -
    I know all about that, there's no need to explain
    but why do I have to say goodbye
    when I love you still, and can only feel that I'm dying.
    Still every word I say just seem to come out wrong
    and none of them deny the face that you are gone 
    and that I'm left here, crying.
    What's the good of songs anyway
    they're just exercises in solitude.
    I should have been ready for today -
    I always prayed you wouldn't go,
        but I always knew you would.
    I suppose you say to him now
    "I know that some day you'll leave me"
    just like you did to me, and I deny it,
    but you wouldn't believe me.
    Ooh do I have to let go of you
    ooh I don't think that I can do it -
    you're always going to be the guardian of my soul,
    and I'll always have a part of you to call my own,
    how stupid that I never proved it.
    Oh I know I'll never let go
    oh because I don't want to be just your friend.
    We spent seven years together in our own way,
    I can't believe the story ends like this today...
    Wherever you are do you really think so, Alice?


    The stars in the heavens still shine
    up above me: how lovely they'd seem
    if you were with me
    but you're gone through the looking-glass
    and I am left to pass these nights alone.
    I'm lost, I'm dumb, I'm blind,
    I am drunk with sadness,
    sunk by madness -
    the wave overwhelms me,
    the mirror repels me,
    the echo of your laugh
    drifts through the looking-glass
    and I am alone.
    No friendship no comfort no future no home,
    the past lingers with me:
    you're all the love I've ever known
    without you I'm nothing
    but empty and silent,
    reflecting on all that I've lost.
    I let you slip away so soon.
    Can you hear me? This is my song
    I am dying; you are gone.
    These words are not enough to save my soul,
    they just mock me from the mirror..
    I'm cold and I'm yearning,
    I've told you I'm burning,
    my eyes can't stand the light...
    like a stray dog in the night
    I'll shuffle off alone.
    We all make our futures
    but I have lost mine;
    I'm hoping for a miracle
    but finding no sign...
    The stars in their constellations,
    each one sadly flickers and falls...
    without you they mean nothing at all.


    When I began I was full of altruistic dreams,
    believed in princes and princesses, kings and queens -
    now I find they're all human inside,
    all bitterness and pride,
    so why shouldn't I be like that too?
    It seems that I've forgotten all I tried so hard to learn;
    It seems there's not an ounce of love or trust
                        anywhere in the world.
    Friends - they're all harbouring knives
    to embed in your back our of revenge, or spite,
    or indifference, or lack of other things to do -
    in the end who's going to be a friend for you
    when they kick you in the guts as your hand
                        holds out the pearl?
    It seem that there is nothing left but
                        hatred and lust in the world.
    I don't give a damn anymore - I've only wound up betrayed.
    It's all been absolutely worthless -
    all the efforts I've made to be gentle and kind
    are repaid with contempt,
    degraded by sympathy, and worthless kindness
    and love that isn't meant.
    I'm through with joy and company, I've done with pretty words,
    betrayed... there's no hiding place
                        Anywhere in the world.
    I've nothing left to fight for except making my passion heard -
    I don't believe in anything
                        Anywhere in the world.


    On Tuesday she used to do yoga,
    while I'd sit and watch the box
    in a vegetable way
    but always ready to say
    to myself that I was an artist
    implying that she was not.
    It's funny the way that self-pity
    can take over from self-esteem -
    well, I was the prince of pride,
    and though I'd cheat I never lied,
    as if that were enough to make her happy,
    as if that could satisfy her dreams.
    Too late now to say that I'm so sorry,
    too late to say that I can change and mend
    the things that hurt... she didn't need to worry,
    she always knew I'd get there in the end.
    Now I'm tying myself up in contortions,
    don't know if yoha will do me any good.
    It's about time I tried, though I'd rather be inside
    from the cold, studing tantra -
    still, I never did that when I could.
    I never did the things that really mattered,
    there seemes to be some key I couldn't find
    to unlock myself;
    I could have done it with her help,
    but I was to busy scrabbling for each moment -
    now I don't know what I did with all the time.
    Sometimes I'd play the wild rover
    sometimes I'd just get smashed all day...
    on Tuesday she used to do yoga,
    on Tuesday she went away.


    (Even the wolf can learn,
    even the sheep can turn,
    even the frog bcome 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 up already, 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 around 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 ever 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... 
            ...cos we're going out, tonight...
            ...put on your high heeled slippers...
            ...everything's gonna
    be alright?
    (CASCD 1125 1977) Recorded and partially dubbed at Foel Studios, Llanffair Caerinion, Wales, June 27 - July 4, 1976 Engineer: Ian Gomm/Comulo, with Dave Anderson/Drek Final dubbing, recording of +, mix at Rockfield Studios, Monmouth, July 5-14, 1976 Engineer: Pat Moran/Splat Produced by Peter Hammill Crying Wolf * Autumn ^ Time Heals * Alice (Letting go) This Side of the Looking Glass + Betrayed ^ (On Tuesday she used to do) Yoga Lost and Found * Drums: Guy Evans/Pharoah * Bass: Nic Potter/Blade * Violin: Graham Smith ^ Orchestra arranged and conducted by Michael Brand +

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