Peter Hammill - The Comet, the Course, the Tail (chords)


Transcription by Cameron Taylor 18-nov-97

Comments, corrections, etc. to <camtaylor@techemail.com>

This tune uses a LOT of embellishment over the main chordal structure

Good Luck

DM7/C# = x4767x
A6 = x02222

Intro: F#  s/C#  F#  (octaves)

F#m               E           D
They say we are endowed with Free Will
F#m                           E             D
- at least that justifies our need for indecision.
F#m              E                D
But between our insticts and the lust to kill
                        F#m
we bow our heads in submission.

They say that no man is an island
but then they say our castles are our homes;
it's felt the choice is ours, between peace and violence
...oh, yes, we choose, alone?


  D    E   D               DM7/C#           A6
While the comet spreads its tail across the sky
D  E  D             DM7/C#               A6
  it nowhere near defines the course it flies,
                             F#m
nor does it find its own direction.

                      F#m E     D 
Though the path of the comet be sure,
          F#m  E    D
its constitution is not,
        F#m       E        D
so its meaning is possibly more
          F#m
than the tracing of a tail

in one brief shot at glory.


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

D - E   D                 DM7/C#            A6
In the slaughterhouse all corpses smell the same,
 D- E    D                  DM7/C#          A6
whether queens or pawns or innocents at the game;
D - E   D          DM7/C#             A6
in the cemetery a uniform cloaks the graves
                                   F#m
except for outward pomp and circumstance.

There is a time set in the calendar
when all reason seems barely enough
to sustain all the shooting stars:
times are rough.

I'm waiting for something to happen here,
it feels as though it's long overdue:
maybe a restatement of yesteryear
or something entirely new.

 D - E   D               DM7/C#    A6
And the knowledge that we gain in part
D - E   D             DM7/C#        A6
always leads us closer to the very start,
                       F#m
and to the founding questions:
Bm                      D/A
How can I tell that the road signed to hell
                     F#m
doesn't lead up to heaven?
E                   D
What can I say when, in some obscure way,
               F#m
I am my own direction?



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