Lyrics-Martyn Bates
<Dance of Hours>
Poems Pennybeach
The moons grey golden meshes make all
night a veil...
The shore lamps in the sleeping lake laburnum
tendrils trail...
The sly reeds whisper to the night a name-
Her name; and all my soul is a delight, a swoon
of shame...
Wishing Songs
...early time of love, be now-
Be real-be amazed-be awoken from the sleeping hour
that would claim the day-
be open as the grasping petalled flower would be,
would willingly be, for now and for always...
always attuned.
and not afraid...dear and awake; blowing wishing songs
all away...
not being in such a silence, in such a dream-like
state, like a distant drum
that does not sound, a fragmented image...
instead to thrive, be richly alive;
complete, undimmed and fiery; enrich the days
when you awake-enrich the days-all delicious
delirium and change
Stars Above
crawling from a war of a kind, out from under wraps,
blind and sorrowed,
with half a mind to kill the rose in you...
then you can be all you despise-
numb to every hurt, to every season, every surprise;
shielded from the world, ah, stars above you will rise
your patient waiting soul to light, so you're truly alive,
sure of all that's your own...yr staggering out from
the blast, and you want to blast them back; ah, it will
take you far from the land you desire so much...
answer in quietness, soft and responsively...
just seeing it all, just seeing this night...to ler your
patient soul (awaiting an answer so) be listening...
ah, let it hear it clearly on this night...
War-Like
...and you lionise all the warring cries-
such violent avenging,; seeking revenge in such a
craven flight...
so war-like, so destroyed by pride...
so uncomprehending, so numbing and ending it all;
so dead inside. you defy, damn your eyes...
you turn and you cry out, war-like,
spit and bite of the soul inside- like a stranger
to yourself, you hide the crushing collusion of
your solitude-
feel the knife of time...
all your beloved life is threatening to mutiny,
fighting inviolate to be realised-you turn away
from such insights-you blind your eyes, war-like...
Once Blessed
poor bebris, careless, craving release like a fool
seeking to be flattered...
curious silver tongued lies and shadows...
all the strangerness you can utter...
now is not the time to be turning to me;
ghosts and dead dreams
that I see...whispering like a sleep uneasy.
hanging in the air-a drear prophecy...
spent like a vision, a mirror empty, filling now
with tearings...
fantastic defenceless grotesqueries.
once blessed and now despairing...
ghosts and dead dreams are all I believe -
A drear prophecy...
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