Tytuł: This strange engine

• Wykonawca: Marillion
• Wyświetleń: 263

  
   There was a boy who came into this world at the hands of a holy woman in a
  holy place
  He wore a red coat and walked a bulldog-saw them reflected in the mirror of
  the lakes
  Lived in the shadow of the mountains with the smells of disinfectant,
  dusty old leather and the polished wood of his bed
  No more than a baby feeding swans on the river holding the hands of his
  mother,
  and the wax paperbag of yesterdays bread
  And his father on the other side of the world
  On the ships railings and some far away tide
  With the silent dry tear of home thoughts from abroad in his far away eyes
  In his faraway eyes
  The smell of the wax on the wooden floor
  Mixture of polish and soap
  No children to fear or to play with
  Rows of empty hooks for the coats
  An upright piano and the boys in the choir
  Still remind him of just before he was born
  Remind him of just before he was breathing
  Strange misty visions of God
  Turn the cities into families
  Into villages of souls
  Hovering in the air while they're sleeping
  With their houses invisible
  Running as fast as I could run
  Send to me the ghosts of Christmas
  Whispering: "You're the only one"
  And ever since I was a boy
  I never felt that I belonged
  Like everything they did to me
  Was an experiment to see
  How I would cope with the illusion
  In which direction would I jump
  Would I do it all the same
  As the actors in the game
  Or would I spit it back at them
  And not get caught up in their rules
  And live according to my own
  And not be used
  To find the fundamental truths
  It was going to take some time
  Thirty five summers down the line
  The wisdom of each passing year
  Seems to serve only to confuse
  Daddy came out the navy and took us away to his dirty gray home town
  And he worked down on a coal mine for National Service so that he could be
  around
  There was a magical purple in the chrome of the exhaust of his triumph motor
  bike
  And a warmth of oil and metal and the thrill of the hard corner holding tight
  From the horizon..
  To buried alive
  Took his dream underground
  Buried his treasure in his faraway eyes.
  And one day as the boy lay sleeping in the sunshine of a half remembered
  afternoon
  A cloud of bees with no particular aim, and no brain
  Found the boy, decided that his time had come
  Came down out of the sky.
  Stung him in the face. Again and again. Blue pain.
  Screaming like baptism
  Intraveinous, Jesus!. Like being chosen.
  Blue pain from something with no brain. I can't explain
  It's happening again.
  Oh mummy, daddy, will you sit a while with me
  Oh mummy, daddy, will you jog my memory. Tell me
  Tall tales of Montego Bay, Table mountain, Flying fish, Banana spiders, Pots
  of paint
  And the sun on the equator
  Setting like an ember thrown to deep water
  From crimson to black.
  But coming back..
  Tomorrow on the horizon
  The blue pain
  Fades to a point where it doesn't fade
  It stayed..
  Blue
  Stirred his red coat heart to his strange engine
  This love
  This love
  This inconvenient, blind, blood-diamond
  This puzzle I don't understand
  That knows no faith
  And tries and fails
  And tries again
  Stares at the sea
  The night's dark deep
  For one last time
  And bleeds And bleeds
  And dies for you.
  And lies
  And is to blame.
  And is ashamed.
  And is not the same.
  And is true.