L Y R I C S

Vital/Van der Graaf Live

Ship of Fools

The captain's in a coma, the lieutenant's on a drunk;
the owner's in his cabin with his special friend,
the monk;
the midget's on the bridge, dispensing platitudes
and junk -
those wild and special places,
those strange and dangerous places,
those sad, sweet faces,
it's a Ship of Fools.

The nurse in black seamed stockings, she's already on patrol
for fake fur starlets panicked by the watering-hole;
everybody's waiting for the drama to unfold
in those cold and treasured places,
those old and degenerate places;
those posed, posed, empty faces
it's a Ship of Fools.

Run, rabbit, run, you're the only one
that can do it;
turn, baby, turn, there's a ring of fire
and you've got to go through it.
Fun, baby, fun, when the sands have run
to the limit
turn, baby, turn, there's a ring of fire
and you're in it.

Looking for logic and adventure
down the dark end of the street,
open city, open season, open lips that gleam so sweet
offer kisses like piranhas
to the soft flesh of your feet,
and any man's poison is every man's meat
in those mad and special places,
those sad and desparate places,
those sad, sweet soul embraces,
it's a Ship of Fools
Those strange and special places
those wild and dangerous places,
those dead, dead, dead faces....
It's a Ship of Fools;
no rules.


Mirror Images

If I'm the mirror and you're the image
then what's the secret between the two,
these 'me's and 'you's, how many can there be?
Oh, I don't mind all that around the place,
as long as you keep it
well away from me.

I've begun to regret that we ever met
between the dimensions.
It gets such a strain to pretend that the change
is anything but cheap...
with your infant pique and your angst pretensions
sometimes you act like a creep.

And now I'm standing in the corner,
looking at the room and the furniture
in cheap imitation of alienation and grief.
And now we're going to the kitchen,
fix ourselves a drink and a cigarette,
getting no closer to being the joker or thief.

Still, I reflect, this nervous wreck
who stands before me can see as well,
can surely tell that he's not yet free;
he can turn aside, but can no more ignore me
than know which one of us is he,
than tell what we are going to be,
than know which one of is me.

And now we're going to the kitchen,
fix ourselves a drink and a cigarette,
getting no closer to being the joker or thief.

These mirror images,
these mirror images
won't stay, go away, are no help.

In these mirror images of myself
there are no secrets.


Urban

Sometimes living for the moment
sometimes going with the flow
sometimes professing to be an exponent
of the quiet life
while night life
surrounds me I sit
and go crazy alone
too many people and too little action
too much exterior acting too little inside
yet I still feel that mani attraction
I've lived in the city for most of my life
and suppose
I'll be there when I die
still going through the same old motions
still qualifying everything I say
responding urbanely to every emotion
the city life freaks me
the city life feeds me
the city life blows me away

Sci-Finance

You got some shares in a speculative venture,
you got some stock in a gilt-edged bond,
you stretched out tight by the terms of debenture,
the game is on....
You chase the bulls in eternal corrida,
the thought of loss is more than you can bear,
you scan the index for a market leader,
a tip and a prayer,
You better see daylight:
night comes on the City so soon.
You say you are a christian capitalist,
but you dance to a different tune.

Jobs for the boys and dole for the shop-floor;
rationalize, strip the assets and run
If the contract stalls, then you've just got to cop more, ain't Monopoly fun?
You made some pretty deals along the way,
Judas and Faust are in accord.
When the revolution comes you may be blown away,
but I bet you'll end up on the board....

Only the money.
Only the money.

Sometime in the future you may realise that the day
you made your decision to follow money as a goal was
you darkest dawn--and that, since then, you have
venerated figures as deities; and, for you,
people are just pawns.

But that deal includes you:
you're just an asset like the rest,
and you, too, stripped naked, beg the Money-God
not to put you to the test
He's got no further use for you
Now, there is silence on the floor.

Clever money-computers chatter privately.
No people any more.

Only the money.


Door

He's a blind man, crouching by the pavement,
only seeing with his third eye,
and clutching at the astral shadow
of every passer-by.

He's a wise man, trumping all the answers;
she's a wild girl, trying to keep his feet on the floor
in whispered physical litanies:
"Stay away from the door."

"Oh, but we're all in this together," he says,
"three-legged race across the floor;
if only you'd loosen the handkerchief
then I'd forget the door."

"Ooh, that feels so much better," he says,
"now you forget everything that I've said before
and sit there all by yourself
while I walk through the door."

They're a blind man, crouching by the pavement,
only seeing with his third eye,
and clutching at the astral shadow
of the door of a room
called 'I'.


Nadir's Big Chance

I've been hanging around, waiting for my chance
to tell you what I think about the music
that's gone down
to which you madly danced - frankly,
you know that it stinks.
I'm gonna scream, gonna shout,
gonna play my guitar
until your body's rigid and you see stars.

Look at all the jerks in their tinsel glitter suits.
pansying around; look at all the nerks
in their leather platform boots,
making with the heavy sound...
I'm gonna stamp on the stardust
and scream till I'm ill -
if the guitar don't get ya, the drums will.

Now's my big break - let me up on the stage,
I'll show you what it's all about;
enough of the fake,
bang your feet in a rage,
tear down the walls and let us out!
We're more than mere morons, perpetually conned,
so come on everybody,
smash the system with the song.

Smash the system with the song!

All lyrics by Peter Hammill
All titles published Static Music Ltd.