Тексты песен «Hammill, Peter»

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...

Spring came far too early this year: May flowers blooming in February. Should I be sad for the months, or glad for the sky? The birds don't know which way to sing and, my friends, neither do I. Two days ago, a girl I...

They say we are endowed with Free Will --at least that justifies our need for indecision. But between our insticts and the lust to kill we bow our heads in submission. They say that no man is an island but then they say...

The Fall of the House of Usher ------------------------------ It took Peter Hammill about 20 years to write this opera with Chris Judge Smith. It took me about three hours to type it down in this file (and I'm supposed...

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...

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...

Genuflection / erection in church. Sacristy cloth / moth-eaten shroud. Secret silence / sacred secrets accumulate dust, aggravate the eye. Incautious laughter after confession. Benediction ------- fictional fear Hidden...

Genuflection / erection in church. Sacristy cloth / moth-eaten shroud. Secret silence / sacred secrets accumulate dust, aggravate the eye. Incautious laughter after confession. Benediction ------- fictional fear Hidden...

Oh the bright young man in the tight-buttoned suit the light beams out from capped smiles to the shines on their lick-spittle books Oh these sharp young sparks with their fresh rosettes Yeh, the artful ways that they...

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...

So: onto the familiar top steps! in cloud-scud moonlight glow the Tower reels. I, the blind man, feeling for a path I know... don't you know that I'm only feeling for how to feel? Rats run. Snakes coil. Fathers, stare...

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...

Silence. Omens... For pain shall come and change shall run down through my heart and shake my knees and NOW it is coming, all round is the humming of the World. Too late! With my balance gone, dead eyed doll, I'm...

Time for a change: I felt bad, things looked strange. Home, home on the range... Yes, it's time for a change. "Well, young man, when you grow up what do you want to be?" "Please, sir, if that's alright I'd really rather...

Time for a change: I felt bad, things looked strange. Home, home on the range... Yes, it's time for a change. "Well, young man, when you grow up what do you want to be?" "Please, sir, if that's alright I'd really...

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...

Along the track the wires are humming in bursts of code like far-off drums.... Fathering the message: further up the line someone's shouting down the passage of time. The corridor restrains the window, no view without...

"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...

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...

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...