Peter Hammill

A Louse Is Not A Home
Sometimes it's very scary here, sometimes it's very sadSometimes I think I'll disappear, betimes I think I haveThere's a line snaking down my mirrorSplintered glass distorts my faceAnd though the light is strong and strangeIt can't illuminate the musty corners of this placeThere is a lofty, lonely Lohengrenic castle in the cloudsI draw my murky meanings thereBut seven years' dark luck is just around the cornerAnd in the shadows lurks the spectre of despairA cracked mirror 'mid the drapes of the landingSplit image, laboured understandingI'm only trying to find a place to hide my homeI've lived in houses composed of glassWhere every movement is chartedBut now the monitor screens are darkAnd I can't tell if silent eyes are thereMy words are spiders upon the pageThey spin out faith, hope and reasonBut are they meet and just, or only dustgathering about my chair?Sometimes I get the feelingThat there's someone else thereThe faceless watcher makes me uneasySongtexteI can feel him through the floorboardsAnd his presence is creepyHe informs me that I shall be expelledWhat is that but out of and into?I don't know the nature of the door that I'd go throughI don't know the nature of the naturethat I am insideI've lived in houses of brick and leadWhere all emotion is sacredAnd if you want to devour the fruitYou must first sniff at the fragranceAnd lay your body before the shrineWith poems and poises and papersOr, if you catch the ruse, you'll have to chooseto stay, a monk, or leave, a vagrantWhat is this place you call home?Is it a sermon or a confession?Is it the chalice that you use for protection?Is it really only somewhere you can stay?Is it a rule-book or a lecture?Is it a beating at the hands of your protector?Does the idol have feet of clay?Home is what you make itSo my friends all sayBut I rarely see their homes in these dark daysSome of them are snailsAnd carry houses on their backsOthers live in monumentswhich, one day, will be racksI keep my home in placewith sellotape and tin-tacksBut I still feel there's some other force hereHe who cracks the mirrors and moves the wallsKeeps staring throughThe eye-slits of the portraits in my hallHe ravages my library and taps the telephoneI've never actually seen himBut I know he's in my homeAnd if he goes awayI can't stay here eitherI believe...er...I thinkWell, I don't knowI only live in one room at a timeBut all of the walls are ears and all the windows, eyesEverything else is foreign'Home' is my wordless chantmmmmmmah!Give it a chance!I am surrounded by flesh and boneI am a temple of livingI am a hermit, I am a droneand I am boring out a place to beWith secret garlands about my headUnearthly silence is brokeThe room is growing dark, and in the stark lightI see a face I knowCould this be the guy who never showsThe cracked mirror what he's feelingMerely mumbles prayers to the ground where he's kneeling"Home is home is home is home is home is home is me!"All you people looking for your housesDon't throw your weight aroundYou might break your glassesAnd if you do, you know you just can't seeAnd then how are you going to findThe dawning of the day?Day is just a word I useTo keep the dark at bayAnd people are imaginary, nothing else existsexcept the room I'm sitting inAnd, of course, the all-pervading mistSometimes I wonder if even that's realMaybe I should de-louse this placeMaybe I should de-place this louseMaybe I'll maybe my life awayIn the confines of this silent houseSometimes it's very scary here, sometimes it's very sadSometimes I think I'll disappear, sometimes I think I... Aus Songtexte Mania