NOMADNESS - LYRICS
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To Be Free
(Cousins)
Old School Songs
The gilt-edged invitation came
And I said "What can this mean?
To attend the coronation
As the first guest of the Queen
And sit upon her right hand
Where the Prince is normally seen?"
The maids of honour stared at me
And registered surprise
To see a man of such good taste
Appear before their eyes
Now bring rather humble
I adopted a disguise
As the Minister of State
For Mass Environment Controls
Who condemn the working classes
For inhabiting the holes
That belong to Queen and Country
But do not permit their souls
To be free like me.
The perspex chandelier
Began to melt and slip away
One million candle-powered
It kept the night at bay
While the power station workers
Were busy making hay
The workers in the fields
Were engaged in self-defence
Which involved the use of barbed wire
As a self-containing fence
But as a means of self-protection
It was needlessly immense
I stopped to ask them for a light
They pointed at the sun
Which raised their hopes of harvesting
A better crop than guns
Can ever mass produce
At the expense of anyone
Who is free like me.
The solitary peasant
In his home above the lake
Raised high on wooden stilts
Has made the singular mistake
Of revolutionary conduct
At the celebration wake
His urban counterpart
Engaged in mundane occupation
Enjoys the chance of laughing
At the Queen's humiliation
At the hands of Ministers of State
For Rehabilitation
Now the power station worker
Though his aim is too disjointed
Finds himself around the corner
While his gun is never pointed
He is ever at the ready
He desires to be annointed
And be free like me.
Little Sleepy
(Lambert)
Old School Songs
Listen to my story,
I've got something I must say
All about a new experience
That came to me today.
Well I don't want your sudden changes,
I don't need your New York zoo,
But I want some understanding
'Cause I think I'm going to lose
Yes I think I'm going to lose.
Take me home, little sleepy,
You don't have to take that train
That leads you where you just don't want to go
Take me home little sleepy,
You don't have to take that train,
This little rock and roller's going to show you what you are.
Well it might have been in Texas,
And it could be New Orleans,
But it really doesn't matter
'Cause it's only in my dreams.
In the places where I travel,
And the people that I meet,
All I know is what I'm fighting for,
It's you I really need.
Yes, it's you I really need.
In the middle of time,1
I'm going to be thinking about you
Take a look at yourself,
I just can't live without you.
The Golden Salamander
(Cousins)
Old School Songs
The bird had silver wings, my friends,
And reached out for the sky;
It found its wings were broken,
It had lost the right to fly.
The pink-eyed salamander
Changed its colours for the day;
It changed from white to purest gold
And left the stag at bay.
Now I am but a p;oor man
In the apple blossom state,
I choose to fly where'er I please,
The stag must needs a mate.
My golden salamander,
You must take me as I am.
I cannot change my colours,
I am but a simple man.
The golden salamander
Had become the rite of spring;
The silver bird made promises
That scarcely meant a thing;
They told the wicked huntsman
Where the stag had run to rest.
Now the elderly survivor
Knew this was not for the best;
He opened up his heart
And prayed for peace for all mankind.
He asked a fortune teller
But found out that she was blind.
The clouds were passing over,
There was little sign of rain;
The sun was slowly rising
From its slumberdown again.
The stag had run to cover
In a copse beside the lake;
The huntsman broke the silence
And the birds began to wake.
The fortune teller smiled
As the survivor spoke of fate.
He thanked her for her interest
But knew it was too late.
Absent Friend
(Cousins)
Old School Songs
My ashtray's flowing over,
And the 'phone's left off the hook.
I've been staring for three hours
At the first page of a book.
Day and night I keep the curtains drawn,
And curse the very day that I was born,
And get to thinking,
How I need you,
Now.
I keep staring at my wristwatch,
Until it's ticking fills the room,
And the hollow sound reminds me
Of the silence of a tomb,
And as the ceiling and the walls close in,
And the furniture begins to spin,
I get to thinking,
How I need you,
Now.
And as the days go passing by,
And I never get a letter,
How I need you.
Days turn into weeks,
And it doesn't get much better,
How I need you.
The gaslit streets lean slowly
As I reel against the wall,
And my musty head is aching
As I stagger down the hall;
Then I fill the broken glass once more,
And fling the empty bottle to the floor,
And get to thinking,
How I need you ...
Back On The Farm
(Cousins)
Old School Songs
I sailed with Miss Columbus for a trip across the sea,
The horizon was behind me when I found that I was free.
I smashed the glass I drank from, drove it deep into my arm.
Tell me how do you feel, now you're back on the farm?
She put me on the periscope and told me she was lost,
She said she was expensive, but I did not mind the cost.
I said her deep-sea diver did not mean her any harm.
Tell me how do you feel, now you're back on the farm?
I rang the bell of freedom,
Drank from the well of plenty,
The milk of human kindness
Was succour to my soul.
I took her to the mast head
And showed her my conditions,
She promised me the cargo
That she carried in her hold.
The sails were set for sunrise when we found the wind had dropped,
I tried to make the time up but the clock had somehow stopped.
A fire broke out below the decks and I sounded the alarm.
Tell me how do you feel, now you're back on the farm?
Now you might think it strange of me to write to you this way.
For years I was a farmer, but I could not make it pay,
Yet here I am a sailor and I feel a sense of calm.
Tell me how do you feel, now you're back on the farm?
So Shall Our Love Die
(Cousins)
Old School Songs
The rose buds are hard and firm;
Erect and proud they stand
On slender stems,
Wrapped in silk
And tied with a velvet ribbon.
"Tie the ribbon in my hair,"
She says,
"Your gentle touch upon my brow
Can make me close my eyes
In sleepy pleasure."
Low the candle burns
And flickers shadows on the wall;
It's crimson lips are closing
Round the flame.
As the flame dies
So shall our live die?
The roses stoop lower
As their petals fall.
So shall our love die?
"What is it,"
She says.
"Nothing,"
Say I,
"Nothing but the west wind,
The wind of change."
Tokyo Rosie
(Cousins)
Old School Songs
The willows stand on guard in the dark
Where lovers are rowing alone in the park.
In awe of each other they make a mistake,
And find they must spend one more night on the lake.
And I don't care if anyone knows,
There's no-one so fair as my Tokyo rose.
I don't care if anyone knows,
There's no-one so fair as my Tokyo Rosie.
The blossom has fallen before the west wind;
The butterfly lies with its silken wings pinned;
Alone in the temple the lovers rejoice
And sing to each other with one single voice.
I wear my silk kimono black,
Get you monkey off my back.
No matter where the west wind blows,
You'll never find a fallen rose.
The flowers of heaven are roses in bloom;
The east wind turns west in the walls of my room.
I build my defence in the palace of sin,
The lovers make home and the loser must win.
A Mind Of My Own
(Coombes)
Not available
Politician's fighting hard to win,
Getting a good position
So he won't have to lose again.
The battle's always on,
Working against disgrace,
He has to win you over.
Well it's always the case,
Ends up saving face.
Delegations, flying in,
Happiest relations,
Smiling faces, shaking hands.
The battle's always on,
Working against displacement.
They have to win them over,
If it's only a case
Of saving space.
No don't bother telling me,
I can see it for myself.
I was born with a mind of my own,
And I intend to keep it free.
Still the seasons come and go,
Bad influences pile up,
Like the dirty driven snow.
Turn off the news,
I really don't want to know.
If there was anywhere left to go,
Well I think I'd want to go,
'Cause I really don't like the show.
Hanging In The Gallery
(Cousins)
Old School Songs
Is it the painter or the picture
Hanging in the gallery?
Admired by countless thousands
Who attempt to read the secrets
Of his vision of his very soul.
Is it the painter or the picture
Hanging in the gallery?
Or is it but a still life
Of his own interpretation
Of the way that God had made us
In the image of His eye?
Is it the sculptor or the sculpture
Hanging in the gallery?
Touched by fleeting strangers
Who desire to feel the strength of hands
That realised a form of life.
Is it the sculptor or the sculpture
Hanging in the gallery?
Or is it but the tenderness
With which his hands were guided
To discard the unessentials
And reveal the perfect truth?
Is it the actor or the drama
Playing to the gallery?
Heard in every corner
Of the theatre of cruelty
That masks the humour in his speech.
Is it the actor or the drama
Playing to the gallery?
Or is it but the character
Of any single member of the audience
That forms the plot
Of each and every play?
Is it the singer or his likeness
Hanging in the gallery?
Tongue black, still and swollen,
His eyes staring from their sockets,
He is silent now, will sing no more.
Is it the singer or his likeness
Hanging in the gallery?
Or is it but his conscience,
Insecurity, and loneliness,
When destiny becomes at last
The cause of his demise?
The Promised Land
(Cronk)
Not available
It was early in the morning
And our ship was still at sea,
With a lifetime far behind us we were free.
We had strong hearts and a faith
In our good Lord's guiding hands;
The mist before us cleared, and we saw the promised land.
With our brothers and our sisters
We soon forged into the land,
Building towns and cities far beyond our dreams.
As the tree which reaches to the sky,
The child who learns to stand,
So we had men of vision to create the promised land.
But the vision soon became
One man's view of wealth and fame,
And the gun became what wisdom used to be.
So the struggle had begun
Which has never yet been won,
Hear the people, hear them saying, "Are we free?"
So God bless you, my promised land,
Let nothing you dismay,
For the hand that guides our fortunes has strange ways.
And when the fight is over
And the judgment is at hand,
Please don't forget our brothers,
Far beyond the promised land.