Тексты песен «Hammill, Peter»

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...

She like to keep God out of church, especially when she prays: All in it's place all safely stored for some rogation day.... The paradox is so apparent, the sense absurd, but all too real; The nonsense is arrant but she...

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:-...

Well, Tommy woke that morning with a headfull of rocks and Sylvia was in shock. The story they'd been faking had frozen on their lips and fallen through the brush of fingertips and though they packed their bags, ready...

The Fall of the House of Usher - An Opera by (1991) Libretto by Chris Judge Smith from the tale by Edgar Allen Poe The Characters: THE CHOIR - Sarah-Jane Morris MONTRESOR - Andy Bell RODERICK USHER - Peter Hammill...

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...

My, friends, I never really thought you'd go, but, then, we know that's the way it happens here. Now time is like cat's cradle in my hands: we gather up the strands much to slowly The refugees are gone... they take...

She's here now, perfume coiled like a thuggie scarf - such a powerful drug to make you so naked and clean. And you want to tell her there's so much to disclose this idea you've got to sell her a new set of empress's...

Check the honesty of what's on offer, true detective or a fake fakir? All the evidence is circumstantial - as mud the evidence is clear. Paranormal the investigation - where do things go when they disappear? All the...

Hope by and by, hope by and by - motes in the eye, portcullis is shut, a skull isn't much of a castle to live in when the change is going to come, the change has got to come. Explosions in the brain attest to it...

With my face drained of colour and my brain of blood like Billy Budd I'm lashed to the grating; with senses growing duller and with quaking heart I make a start at temperature equating and my lungs suck useless air...

Time has come between us: in the passing months I've felt you slip away as your words and mine came like nursery rhymes till there was nothing left to say. Distance came between us long ago, as our memories faded...

He casts himself as an adventurer, all foot on floor and hell for leather; She never told him what he meant to her- Perhaps that's for the better. She's never clearly seen dividing lines between real life and parts...

There's a smokescreen on the horizon, fireships under sail tonight.... Here's the Armada of Souls, here's the flotilla from God knows where: from gopher-wood to the last of the ironclads in common concert they send up...

Flying Blind I alway forget how crazy things are so sometimes it catches me off my guard when they make sense. The line on the road trail the arrow in the sky, I search for the mote in my brother's eye beneath the...

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...

Where are all the joys of yesterday? Where, now, is the happiness and laughter that we shared? Gone, like our childhood dreams, aspirations and beliefs -- Time is a thief, and he ravages our gardens, stripping saplings,...

Butterflies on the wheel of a world that turns unyieldingly... every fragile beating wing moves the motor of the thing, oh, Gaia! Butterflies stir a breeze and the ripples flow unceasingly: far away the cyclones swirl...

Manheim; rainy Saturday with no money nor friend, only Tequila can end the boredom. Try to reach London for a pocket of hope; we're children, we grope in the dark. Hugh spends his last Mark on coffee and cheese... I...

There's no time for dull regrets no-one underwrites your debts. No satisfaction guaranteed, but this much I believe we make the lives we lead. Best foot forward, face the day as the moment slips away like a whisper...