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Lifebeats |
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Instrumental part |
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Prelude |
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Instrumental part |
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The Silver Cord |
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"Do you still see me even here?" |
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(The silver cord lies on the ground.) |
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"And so I'm dead", the young man said - over the hill (not a wish away). |
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My friends (as one) all stand aligned, although their taxis came too late. |
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There was a rush along the Fulham Road. |
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There was a hush in the Passion Play. |
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Such a sense of glowing in the aftermath ripe with rich attainments |
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All imagined sad misdeeds in disarray the sore thumb screams aloud, |
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Echoing out of the Passion Play. |
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All the old familiar choruses come crowding in a different key: |
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Melodies decaying in sweet dissonance. |
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There was a rush along the Fulham Road |
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Into the Ever-passion Play. |
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And who comes here to wish me well? |
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A sweetly-scented angel fell. |
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She laid her head upon my disbelief |
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And bathed me with her ever-smile. |
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And with a howl across the sand |
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I go escorted by a band of gentlemen in leather bound |
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NO-ONE (but someone to be found). |
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Re-Assuring Tune |
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Instrumental part |
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Memory Bank |
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All along the icy wastes there are faces smiling in the gloom. |
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Roll up roll down, Feeling unwound? Step into the viewing room. |
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The cameras were all around. We've got you taped; you're in the play. |
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Here's your I.D. (Ideal for identifying one and all.) |
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Invest your life in the memory bank; ours the interest and we thank you. |
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The ice-cream lady wets her drawers, to see you in the passion play. |
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Take the prize for instant pleasure, |
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Captain of the cricket team |
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Public speaking in all weathers, |
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A knighthood from a queen. |
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Best Friends |
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All of your best friends' telephones never cooled from the heat of your hand. |
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There's a line in a front-page story, 13 horses that also-ran. |
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Climb in your old umbrella. |
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Does it have a nasty tear in the dome? |
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But the rain only gets in sometimes and the sun never leaves you alone. |
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Critique Oblique |
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Lover of the black and white it's your first night. |
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The Passion Play, goes all the way, spoils your insight. |
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Tell me how the baby's made, how the lady's laid, |
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Why the old dog howls in sadness. |
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And your little sister's immaculate virginity wings away |
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On the bony shoulders of a young horse named George |
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Who stole surreptitiously into her geography revision. |
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(The examining body examined her body.) |
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Actor of the low-high Q, let's hear your view. |
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Peek at the lines upon your sleeves since your memory won't do. |
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Tell me: how the baby's graded, how the lady's faded, |
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Why the old dogs howl with madness. |
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All of this and some of that's the only way to skin the cat. |
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And now you've lost a skin or two, you're for us and we for you. |
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The dressing room is right behind, |
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We've got you taped, you're in the play. |
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How does it feel to be in the play? |
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How does it feel to play the play? |
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How does it feel to be the play? |
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Man of passion rise again, we won't cross you out: |
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For we do love you like a son, of that there's no doubt. |
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Tell us: is it you who are here for our good cheer? |
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Or are we here for the glory, for the story, for the gory satisfaction |
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Of telling you how absolutely awful you really are? |
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There was a rush along the Fulham Road. |
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There was a hush in the Passion Play. |
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Forest Dance No.1 |
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Instrumental part |
