Flight Lyrics - Hammill Peter

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Flying blindi alway forget how crazy things areso sometimes it catches me off my guardwhen they make sense.the line on the road trail the arrow in the skyi search for the mote in my brother's eyebeneath the pence...a time of blunt instruments.still uncertain when i've wokenor what constitutes a conscious mindthough the thought remains unspokeni know i'm flying blind.breaking into cold sweat on the white-hot coalsthe pennies from heaven drop through my soul:it don't relent.at the back end of dreams i'm amazed to awake...i offer my theories but just can't shakethat seventh senseto which there's no defense.it seemed the time was for actionit seemed so cool to be that kind...my tongue writhed to form some retractionbut i knew i was flying blind.i want things to be fast down to the power-drive;i want the zero-gravity heroes to play deadbut stay alive.we want it to be slow all the way to stall;we talk about a thousand things that never change at all.no it never change...it was then that i knew i'd been thoughtless -something had slipped my mind:i'd strapped myself into the fortressbut the fortress was flying blind.we got full clearance so someone down thereought to know the truth of our disappearance -if even that still shows it accuses and blames mebut nothing was quite what it seemed.sometimes things work out so strangelythat it might as well all be dreamed.the white cane fandangothe white cane fandango in morse codetry to shake through the messageshake the load;only venial sin running on the spot -till the dance begins.where does a man go when the muscles cramp?try to write out a postcard on a postage stampwith a drawing pin punching out the braillefor the whole within?upset the contango on your future stock;paying backwardation hold onto what you've got -such a sideways grin! some day you may needto trade that in.if we ride this rightthe future will fall in our hands.if we survive the flightthe future will work out -nothing's that black and white.controlthe colour-coded charts are spreadbut we're still gliding deep into the redthe radio is deadevery valve blown open.the radar screen flicks monochromeair traffic controller wants to get on homewaiting for a phone callto release him from responsibility.nobody goes to see him any moreexcept for the man from the ministry.he wanted to be he wanted to bethe man at the helm in command of the flightpath;he's flying a chair quite beyond control;he's going to have just one more chanceat a barrel roll.all in a dream all as a dreamthe colours too bright the music too deafening -the black-out world has just begun to show.these cracked-out words i offer...but i still don't know.cool blue suffuse the colour gun -oh come in come in number one:your time's nearly run.speed-freeze the framethe present and the past hold fast...it's too fast the thing don'tthe thing won'tthe thing don't last.cockpitthe rolling dice clash together never make up the score;that old device the ejector seat glued to the floor.everybody waits for everyone to make a show -no-one wants to be the first admitting that they knowhow anythings that's gone down herecould fit into an analytic groove...wait for the tactical movewait for some action we all can approve.too much to drink for the cup reaches down to the sea;too much to think the barometer pressuring me.rolling down the weather for an easter paradereeling out the maydays in the hope of being savedbut the radio ham's out giving blood -no no no he's not listening.the cricketer knows his "wisden"the pilot has got his "jane's"but the sum of this factual wisdomdon't help us to fly the plane(no and it never will...)beneath the tartan two-piece something rips undone...wait for the ladder to runwait for the snake that the ladder becomes.a passenger hits the cockpit willing to chance his game:pulls out his gun and cocks itin the hope that it all might change. (oh but it never will...)a fly-leaf from the library shows others have been here beforetried failed and kicked out the door;the aircrew don't care anymore -not they just waitfor the beat of the silk-worm wingwait for the heat to come down on us- full force of the law.silk-worm wingsfull force of gravity pulls me downi'll be better off out of there;aerobatic spin aroundi'll take my chances in the open air.sycamore silk-worm wingsor roman candle to the groundthere's only one thing for shure:when the balloon goes upthe aeronaut calm down.he say nothing is quite what it seemshe say nothing is quite what it seems;i say nothing is nothing.a black boxsoftly the angels sing their time and space refrain:there's something in everything if you can only pin down its nameaerobatic thoughts at the back of my mind -is it nothing but the looping line we all follow?nothing but the spiral twist of dnathere'll be no looking back from tomorrow on today.so the wire is tripped split-seconds defect to their successors;the umbilical cord is ripped -here we all are in free fall.i stall where i am as if to see where i've been:only running down the looping line we all followonly chasing down the spiral twist of dna -there can be no looking on to tomorrow from today.life/death/night/day - cold breath will surely fly away.is the empire of sensation locked in a black boxdeep in me encoded there somehow?it fires the imagination to fly on a wing and a prayerthrough my life - is that how it is?there'll be no looking back on this...this is now which will be then -is this the means? all i know for shure isthis is the end.no looking back from tomorrowno there'll be no looking back on today;better be looking on to tomorrow...better think on today.all lyrics by peter hammillpublished by hit and run music publishing ltd.printed by permission.s-type records 55-59 shaftsbury ave. london w.i.calligraphy by jet--

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