[Part I: Flying Blind]
[Verse 1]
I always forget how crazy things are
So sometimes it catches me off my guard
When they make sense
The line on the road trail the arrow in the sky
I search for the mote in my brother's eye
Beneath the pence...
A time of blunt instruments
Still uncertain when I've woken
Or what constitutes a conscious mind
Though the thought remains unspoken
I know I'm flying blind
[Verse 2]
Breaking into cold sweat on the white-hot coals
The pеnnies from heaven drop through my soul:
It don't rеlent
At the back end of dreams I'm amazed to awake...
I offer my theories but just can't shake
That seventh sense
To which there's no defense
Oh yes, it seemed that the time was for action
It seemed so cool to be that kind...
My tongue writhed to form some retraction
Oh, but I knew I was flying blind
[Instrumental Break]
[Bridge]
I want things to be fast, down to the power-dive;
I want the zero-gravity heroes to play dead
But stay alive
I want things to be slow, all the way to stall;
We talk about a thousand things that never change at all
Oh no, it never change...
[Verse 3]
It was then that I knew I'd been thoughtless
Something had slipped my mind:
I'd strapped myself into the Fortress
Oh but the Fortress was flying blind
Oh we got full clearance
So someone down there ought to know
The truth of our disappearance -
If even that still shows it accuses and blames me
But nothing was quite what it seemed
Sometimes things work out so strangely
That it might as well all be dreamed
[Part II: The White Cane Fandango]
[Verse 4]
The White Cane Fandango in Morse code
Try to shake through the message
Shake the load;
Only venial sin, running on the spot
Till the dance begins
[Verse 5]
Upset the contango on your future stock;
Paying backwardation, hold onto what you've got -
Such a sideways grin!
Some day you may need to trade that in
[Verse 6]
Where does a man go when the muscles cramp?
Try to write out a postcard on a postage stamp
With a drawing pin punching out the Braille
For the whole within?
[Verse 7]
If we ride this right
The future will fall in our hands
If we survive the flight
The future will work out -
Nothing's that black and white
Nothing's that black and white
Nothing's that black and white
Nothing's that black and white
Nothing's that black and white
[Part III: Control]
[Intro]
The colour-coded charts are spread
But we're still gliding deep into the red
The radio is dead
Every valve blown open
The radar screen flicks monochrome
Air traffic controller wants to get on home
He is waiting for a phone call
To release him from all responsibility
Nobody goes to see him any more
Except for the man from the ministry
[Verse 8]
He wanted to be, he wanted to be
The 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 chance
At a barrel roll
[Verse 9]
All in a dream, all as a dream
All the 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
[Bridge]
But I still don't know
But I still don't know
But I still don't know
[Outro]
Cool blue suffuse the colour gun -
Oh, come in, come in number one:
Your time's nearly run
Speed-freeze the frame
The present and the past hold fast....
It's too fast, oh the thing don't
Oh the thing won't
Oh the thing don't last
[Part IV: Cockpit]
[Verse 10]
The rolling dice clash together, never make up the score;
That old device, the ejector seat is glued to the floor
Everybody waits for everyone to make a show
No-one wants to be the first, admitting that they know
How anythings that's gone down here
Could fit into an analytic groove
Wait for the tactical move
I only wait for some action we all can approve
[Verse 11]
Too much to drink, for the cup reaches down to the sea;
Too touch, to think, the barometer pressuring me
Rolling down the weather for an Easter parade
Reeling out the Maydays in the hope of being saved
But the radio ham's out giving blood -
Oh no, no, no, he's not listening
The cricketer has got his "Wisden"
The pilot has got his "Jane's"
The sum of this factual wisdom
Won't help us to fly the plane
Oh but it never will...
Beneath the tartan two-piece there's something rips undone...
Wait for the ladder to run
Wait for the snake that the ladder becomes
[Instrumental Break]
[Verse 12]
A passenger hits the cockpit, willing to chance his game:
Pulls out his gun and cocks it
In the hope that it all might change, but it never will...
A fly-leaf from the library shows others have been here before
Tried, failed and kicked out the door;
The aircrew don't care anymore
Now they just wait for the beat of the silk-worm wing
Wait for the heat to come down on us
Force of the law (Oh)
[Part V: Silk-Worm Wings]
[Verse 13]
Full force of gravity pulls me down
I'll be better off out of there;
Aerobatic spin around
I'll take my chances in the open air
[Verse 14]
Sycamore silk-worm wings
Or Roman Candle to the ground
There's only one thing for sure:
When the balloon goes up
The aeronaut calm down
[Part VI: Nothing is Nothing]
[Verse 15]
And he say nothing is quite what it seems
Oh he say nothing is quite what it seems;
But I say nothing is nothing
[Instrumental Break]
[Part VII: A Black Box]
[Verse 16]
Softly, the angels sing their time and space refrain:
There's something in everything if you can only pin down its name
Aerobatic thoughts at the back of my mind -
Is it nothing but the looping line we all follow?
Nothing but the spiral twist of DNA?
There'll be no looking back from tomorrow on today
[Verse 17]
So the wire is tripped, split-seconds defect to their successors;
The umbilical cord is ripped -
Here we all are in free fall
So I stall where I am, as if to see where I've been
Only running down the looping line we all follow
Only chasing down the spiral twist of DNA
There can be no looking on to tomorrow from today
[Bridge]
Oh life/death/night/day...
Cold breath will surely fly away
Is the empire of sensation locked in a black box deep in me, encoded there somehow?
It fires the imagination to fly on a wing and a prayer through my life
Oh is that how it is?
This is now
Which will be then?
Is this the means?
All I know for shure is
This is the end
[Outro]
Yeah, there will be no looking on to tomorrow
Yeah, better think on today
Flight [The Margin] was written by Peter Hammill.
Flight [The Margin] was produced by Peter Hammill.