{"id":719,"date":"2013-04-12T16:23:41","date_gmt":"2013-04-12T14:23:41","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/?page_id=719"},"modified":"2013-05-03T01:39:39","modified_gmt":"2013-05-02T23:39:39","slug":"7-world-record","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/teksty\/teksty-oryginalne\/teksty-vdgg\/7-world-record\/","title":{"rendered":"7. World Record"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/a>
\n When She Comes<\/strong><\/p>\n

Slow motion in the quiet of the room;
\nso potent is the smell of her perfume
\nthat you think she’s eternal,
\nthat you think she is everything…
\nbut no-one knows what she is.
\nRepentance for all you should have said;
\nher entrance seems to raise you from the dead
\nand you think she’s really with you,
\nand you think that she’ll always stay,
\nalways ready to forgive you,
\nalways ready to grant you her mercy
\n– but in her own way.
\nWhen she comes, she’ll be a stranger;
\nstruck dumb, you’ll try to protest
\nas the drum beats out the danger…
\ntoo late, you should have noticed
\nthat the lady with the skin so white,
\nlike something out of Blake or Burne-Jones
\nalways blocked out the light
\nand shadowed all you owned.<\/p>\n

Still you think she’s forever,
\nyesterday and tomorrow…
\nbut no-one knows where she is.
\nStillyou swear that you can win her
\nand your prayer is that she’ll want you;
\naware, once a saint, now you’re a sinner
\nand your sins are going to haunt you
\nwhen the lady with her skin so white
\nlike something out of Edgar Allen Poe
\nholds your hand so very tight
\nand you hope that she’ll never let go.<\/p>\n

Easy targets, easy crosswords, easy life:
\nthese key margins leave you balanced on the knife,
\nbleeding darkly In the end it all comes down
\nto sleazy bargains.
\nThat hidden key-you tried so hard to find it,
\nall you can conceive is the effort to be worthy.
\nEven now you need tobe reminded
\nthat La Belle Dame is without mercy.
\nThe lady with her skin so white
\n– you never did quite catch her name –
\nnow she holds you in the night
\nand she’ll never let go again,
\nshe’ll never let go again.<\/p>\n

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

A Place to Survive<\/strong><\/p>\n

It’s easy to say, when you’re so down,
\nthat everything’s pointless;
\nyour eyes burn, your ears howl,
\nyour limbs are disjointed.
\nBarren fields, the barren earth,
\nnever more will it flower –
\nrub your face and your hands in the dirt:
\nnow is the hour!
\nSo stand straight, looking over your shoulder,
\nwalk on, though you fear to arrive;
\ndon’t wait till you know that it’s over,
\nbe strong – it’s your place to survive.<\/p>\n

While the holocaust rages around you,
\nbe the eye of the storm;
\nthough the extent of disaster astounds you,
\nforearmed is forewarned.
\nYou may have passed time in happier ways,
\nbut there are other mountains to climb:
\nyou’ve never lived as you’re living today –
\nnow is the time!
\nStand straight, though your back breaks from trying,
\nwalk on – even now you must strive.
\nDon’t wait; while you’re waiting, you’re dying.
\nBe strong – it’s your place to survive.<\/p>\n

The universe is doubtless unfolding
\njust exactly as it should
\nand these dreams of remorse or foreboding
\nwon’t do you any good.
\nThe joy, the passion, possessions you own,
\nthe bitterness and the pain,
\nthe end of everything you’ve ever known:
\nall these are ordained.<\/p>\n

Stand straight looking into the future,
\nwalk on–we’ve each got our own lives.
\nDon’t wait for a guru or tutor,
\nbe strong–it’s your place to survive.
\nStand straight, looking over your shoulder,
\nwalk on: though it hurts, you’re alive.
\nDon’t wait – if you wait it’s all over;
\nbe strong – it’s your right to survive.<\/p>\n

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

Masks<\/strong><\/p>\n

He’s a man of the past and one of the present,
\na man who hides behind a mask behind a mask;
\na clown, a fool, believing it cool to be down
\nor that the game is all about who laughs the last.<\/p>\n

So he tells all his problems to his friends
\nand relations, exposes his neuroses to their view.
\nThey accept as fact
\nevery masochistic mumble of his act;
\nhow could they know what was false
\nand what was true?<\/p>\n

Sometimes when he wakes
\nhe feels he’s walked into a dream
\nbut all it takes
\nto remind him things are what they seem
\nis the belief
\nthat the man behind the mask can really dance
\nPirouetting smile
\nhe sees himself cavorting,
\nPierrot for a while
\nbefore aborting
\nto find relief
\nin the shelter of the dark, most telling mask.<\/p>\n

After all the pantomimes are ended
\nhe peels all the make-up off his face
\nto reveal, beneath,
\nthe tears running all down his cheeks:
\nalne, he opens to the world…
\nbut it’s much too late.
\nHe’s been left, in the end, without a face.<\/p>\n

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

Meurglys III, The Songwriter’s Guild<\/strong><\/p>\n

These days I mainly just talk to plants and dogs –
\nall human contact seems painful, risky, odd;
\nso I stay acting god in my own universe
\nwhere I trade cigarettes in return for songs.
\nThe deal’s made harder the longer I go on:
\nI find me gone from all but secret languages.<\/p>\n

If only I could phrase satisfactory words
\nin conversation, to make my passion heard…
\nIf only…<\/p>\n

Meurglys III, he’s my friend,
\nthe only one that I can trust
\nto let it be without pretence
\n– there’s no-one else.
\nIt’s killing me, but in the end
\nthere’s no-one else I know is true,
\nthere’s none in all the masks of men,
\nthere’s nothing else
\nbut my guitar…
\nI suppose he’ll have to do.<\/p>\n

Talking in tongues is easy when you know how,
\nquite pleasing, but still nothing works out right.
\nPressurised lungs, heart bleeding,
\nyou’d better slow down
\nand show that you can make it through the night.
\nHowever dark it seems,
\nthe present is just the present,
\nbeyond it no further darness lies concealed
\nand through these desperate dreams,
\nthis longing for friends and comfort,
\nyou know that in the end all will be revealed.
\nWhen no more plants or dogs
\nor rooms are there to hear you,
\nand no-one is left near you, then you’ll see:
\nin the end there’s only you and Meurglys III,
\nand this is just what you chose to be,
\nfool!<\/p>\n

Though I know all this is just escape,
\nI run because I don’t know where the prison lies.
\nIn songs like this I can bear the weight…
\nI’m running still,
\nI shall until,
\none day, I hope that I’ll arrive.<\/p>\n

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

Wondering<\/strong><\/p>\n

I will arise:
\nin the depths, I will open my eyes;
\nas my breath almost fails me, survive.<\/p>\n

Wait – there’s something unclear,
\nthere’s soemthing I fear now drawing close.
\nCould it be you? Whose is that voice?
\nIs it now time to make a chice?
\nAh – that irrational pain!
\nThis ridiculous brain now bursts with joy.
\nCould it be me? Could it be now?
\nShould I begin to take my vows?<\/p>\n

I will return:
\nas I live, as I breathe, as I burn
\nI swear I will come through,
\nwith my hands stretching out in the dark,
\nwith my eye pressed up tight to the glass,
\nwondering if it’s all been true.<\/p>\n

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

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

When She Comes Slow motion in the quiet of the room; so potent is the smell of her perfume that you think she’s eternal, that you think she is everything… but no-one knows what she is. Repentance for all you … Czytaj dalej →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":659,"parent":517,"menu_order":7,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"sidebar-page.php","meta":{"_sitemap_exclude":false,"_sitemap_priority":"","_sitemap_frequency":"","footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-719","page","type-page","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/719","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=719"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/719\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":721,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/719\/revisions\/721"}],"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=719"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}