{"id":697,"date":"2013-04-09T17:08:26","date_gmt":"2013-04-09T15:08:26","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/?page_id=697"},"modified":"2013-05-03T01:36:33","modified_gmt":"2013-05-02T23:36:33","slug":"3-h-to-he-who-am-the-only-one","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/teksty\/teksty-oryginalne\/teksty-vdgg\/3-h-to-he-who-am-the-only-one\/","title":{"rendered":"3. H to He, Who Am the Only One"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/a>
\nKiller<\/strong><\/p>\n

So you live in the bottom of the sea,
\nand you kill all that come near you ….
\nbut you are very lonely, because all the other fish
\nfear you …..
\nAnd you crave companionship and someone to call your own;
\nbecause for the whole of your life
\nyou’ve been living alone.<\/p>\n

On a black day in black month
\nat the black bottom of the sea,
\nYour mother gave birth to you and died
\nimmediately ….
\n'Cos you can’t have two killers living
\nin the same pad
\nand when your mother knew that her time had come
\nshe was really rather glad.<\/p>\n

Death in the sea, death in the sea,
\nsomebody please come and help me,
\ncome and help me
\nFishes can’t fly, fishes can’t fly,
\nFishes can’t and neither can I, neither can I …<\/p>\n

Now I’m really rather like you,
\nfor I’ve killed all the love I ever had
\nby not doing all I ought to and by leaving
\nmy mind coming bad.
\nAnd I too am a killer,
\nfor emotion runs as deep as flesh
\nand I too am so lonely, and I wish that I could forget
\nWe need love,
\nWe need love,
\nWe need love ……….<\/p>\n

<\/a><\/p>\n

House With No Door<\/strong> \"Przek\u0142ad\"<\/a><\/p>\n

There’s a house with no door and I’m living there
\nat nights it gets so cold
\nand the days are hard to bear inside.
\nThere’s a house with no roof, so the rain creeps in,
\nfalling through my head as I try to think out time.
\nI don’t know you, you say you know me,
\nthat may be so,
\nthere’s so much that I am unsure of …
\nYou call my name, but it sounds unreal,
\nI forget how I feel, my body’s rejecting the cure.<\/p>\n

There’s a house with no bell, but then nobody calls;
\nI sometimes find it hard to tell
\nif any are alive at all outside.
\nThere’s a house with no sound; yes, it’s quiet there
\nthere’s not much point in words
\nif there’s no-one to share in time.
\nI’ve learned my lines, I know them so well,
\nI am ready to tell
\nwhoever will finally come in
\nOf the line in my mind that’s cold in the night,
\nit doesn’t seem right
\nwhen there’s that little dark figure running …<\/p>\n

There’s a house with no door
\nand there’s no living there:
\none day it became a wall …
\nwell I didn’t really care at the time.
\nThere’s a house with no light,
\nall the windows are sealed,
\novertaxed and strained NOW NOTHING IS REVEALED BUT TIME
\nI don’t know you, you say you know me,
\nthat may be so,
\nthere’s so much that I am unsure of …
\nYou call my name, but it sounds unreal,
\nI forget how I feel,
\nmy body’s rejecting the cure …..
\nWon’t somebody help me ……?<\/p>\n

<\/a><\/p>\n

The Emperor in his War-Room<\/strong><\/p>\n

The Emperor<\/i><\/p>\n

Standing in the space that holds the silent lace
\nof night away from you
\nYou think that you can hold the searing, molten gold
\nbetween your fingers …
\nBut it slips through, tearing tendons as it goes,
\nexposing the white of a knuckle …
\nflesh-and-metal forming letters in the mould.<\/p>\n

Cradling your gun, after choosing the ones
\nyou think should die –
\nLying on the hill … crawling over the windowsill
\ninto your living-room
\nThey stare out, glass-eyed aimless heads,
\nbodies torn by vultures ..
\nyou are the man whose hands are rank with
\nthe smell of death.
\nSaviour of the Fallen, Protector of the Weak,
\nFriend of the Tall Ones, Keeper of the Peace …
\nAh, but it is the only way you know …..<\/p>\n

Looking out to sea, a flattened plane of weeds which bear no living
\nYou crush life in your fist as your heart is kissed by the lips of death
\nGhosts betray you, ghosts betray you,
\nin the night they steal your eye
\nfrom its socket …
\nand the ball hangs fallen on your cheek.
\nComplaining tongues are stilled; a thousand mouths
\nare filled with rusting metal.
\nYour face a shade of green; somehow you try
\nto speak through all the garbage in your mouth
\nBut it won’t come out, and you cannot frame the words
\nas your stepson
\nthrows your fame into the flames and you are burned.
\nSaviour of the Fallen, Protector of the Weak,
\nFriend of the Tall Ones, Keeper of the Peace.
\nAh, but it is the only way you know ……….<\/p>\n

The Room<\/i><\/p>\n

Live by sword and you shall die so,
\nAll your power shall come to nought,
\nevery life you take is part of your own,
\ndeath, not power, is what you’ve bought.<\/p>\n

Cringing in your room as the outriders of doom step
\non your threshold;
\nBegging for your life as the impartial knife sinks in your
\nscreaming flesh …
\nwithout malice, merely taking murder’s toll,
\nyou must pay the price of hate, and that price is
\nyour soul ….<\/p>\n

Live in peace or die forever in your war-room.<\/p>\n

<\/a><\/p>\n

Lost<\/strong><\/p>\n

Dance in Sand and Sea<\/i><\/p>\n

So here we are, or rather, here I am, quite alone,
\nI’m seeing things that were shared before, long ago …
\nmy memory stretches and I am dazed: you know I know
\nhow good the time was and how I laughed ..
\nTimes have changed, now you’re far away, I can’t complain:
\nI had all my chances but they slipped right through my hands – like so much sand;
\nI know I’ll never dance like I used to<\/p>\n

I’ll just wait till day breaks upon the land and the sea.
\nhoping that I can catch all of the memories,
\nthen I must crawl off upon my way, all of me
\nlistening hard for the final words.
\nBut there are none; the sunrise calls, I’ve lingered on
\ntoo close for comfort and I don’t know quite why
\nI feel like crying –
\nI know we’ll never dance like we used to.<\/p>\n

I look up, I’m almost blinded by the warmth of what’s inside me
\nand the taste that’s in my soul,
\nbut I’m dead inside as I stand alone ….<\/p>\n

Dance in Frost<\/i><\/p>\n

I wore my moods like so many different sets of clothes
\nbut the right one was never around;
\nand as you left I heard my body ring
\nand my mind began to howl
\nIt was far to late to contemplate the meaning of it all:
\nYou know that I need you, but somehow I don’t think
\nyou see my love at all<\/p>\n

At some point I lost you, I don’t know quite how it was;
\nThe wonderland lay in a coat of white, chilling frost
\nI looked around and I found I was truly lost:
\nwithout your hand in mine I am dead …..
\nReality is unreal and games I’ve tried just aren’t the same:
\nwithout your smile there’s nowhere to hide
\nand deep inside
\nI know I’ve never cried as I’m about to …<\/p>\n

If I could just frame the words that would make your fire burn
\nall this water now around me could be the love that
\nshould surround me.<\/p>\n

Looking out through the tears that bind me
\nmy heart bleeds that you may find me .. or at least that I can
\nforget and be numb, but I can’t stop, the words still come:
\nI LOVE YOU<\/p>\n

<\/a><\/p>\n

Pioneers Over C<\/strong><\/p>\n

Left the earth in 1983,
\nfingers groping for the galaxies,
\nreddened eyes stared up into the void,
\n1000 stars to be exploited
\nSomebody help me I’m falling, somebody help me, I’m falling down
\nInto sky, into earth, into sky, into earth …..
\nIt is so dark around, no life, no hope, no sound
\nno chance of seeing home again …
\nThe universe is on fire, exploding without flame.
\nWe are the lost ones; we are the pioneers;
\nwe are the lost ones
\nWe are the ones they are going to build a statue for
\nten centuries ago or were going to fifteen forward …<\/p>\n

One Last brief whisper in our loved ones’ ears
\nto reassure them and to pierce the fear
\nstanding at controls then still unknown
\nwe told the world we were about to go
\nSomebody help me I’m missing, somebody help me
\nI’m missing now
\ntouch with my mind, I have no frame,
\ntouch with my mind, I have no frame …
\nWell now where is the time and who the hell am I,
\nhere floating in an aimless way?
\nNo-one knows where we are, they can’t feel us precisely ..<\/p>\n

There is no fear here.
\nHow can such a thing exist in a place where
\nliving and knowing
\nand being have never been heard of?<\/p>\n

Doomed to vanish in the flickering light,
\ndisappearing to a darker night,
\ndoomed to vanish in a living death, living anti-matter, anti-breath
\nSomebody help me I’m losing, somebody help me, I’m losing now
\npeople around, there’s no-one to touch,
\nno people around, no-one to touch.
\nI am now quite alone, part of a vacant time-zone,
\nhere floating in the void,
\nonly dimly aware of existence, a dimly existing awareness,
\nI am the lost one, I am the one you fear,
\nI am the lost one,
\nI am the one who went up into space, or stayed where I was,
\nor didn’t exist in the first place …<\/p>\n

All lyrics by Peter Hammill<\/p>\n

\"Przewi\u0144<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Killer So you live in the bottom of the sea, and you kill all that come near you …. but you are very lonely, because all the other fish fear you ….. And you crave companionship and someone to call … Czytaj dalej →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":659,"parent":517,"menu_order":3,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"sidebar-page.php","meta":{"_sitemap_exclude":false,"_sitemap_priority":"","_sitemap_frequency":"","footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-697","page","type-page","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/697","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=697"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/697\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":699,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/697\/revisions\/699"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/517"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/659"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=697"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}