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Cuckooland
2003
Robert Wyatt
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Faith may not be such a bad thing.
Hope can still feel pretty good.
I'm as mad as any hatter.
I feel safer touching wood.
I like totem poles and icons
(icon tact is de rigeur).
So ring dem bells and pump that organ.
chants for him and hymns for her.
'Bracadabra hocus locus,
magic mush, no room for doubt
as wailing walls induce psychosis
(beat your braincells inside out).
Transcendental art's religion,
thinking you'll improve your mind,
when all it does (if you're in luck)
is camouflage the daily grind.
Nature's harmony's a discord.
if you listen with both ears.
Poor Gaia's up to here in white noise.
She cannot assuage your fears.
Superstition's like religion;
bonsai version - faintly sad.
And I know that (I must admit it)
touching wood is just a bit mad
| OLD EUROPE |
Alfreda Benge / Robert Wyatt |
Le Chat qui Pêche.
Rue de la Huchette.
Paris at night.
and the strains of a ghost saxophone.
Juliette and Miles.
Black and white city.
Paris by night.
and the ghosts of two people in love.
I'll be dreaming again,
always dreams of yesterdays.
Those days live on?
safe here in my heart.
Cherchez la femme.
slips through a doorway.
out of the night
to the warmth of a new lover's arms.
Rue St Benoit.
La route enchant2e.
Indigo nights,
and the ghost of the moon in the Seine.
I'll be dreaming again,
always dreams of yesterdays.
Those days live on,
safe here in my heart.
| TOM HAY'S FOX |
Robert Wyatt |
Bring out your foghorns,
the mist has descended.
The alley's never been blinder.
What light there is.
is too diffused
to indicate any direction.
What light there is.
tells us nothing.
FOREST
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Alfreda Benge / Robert Wyatt |
Deep in the forest
the omens are bad.
a cloud passes over the moon.
Devil Wind
bends the trees.
a cloud passes over the moon.
And the moon takes a peep
when the Gypsy girl sings,
and her song rises up
from the dark to the light,
like smoke to the sky.
when the Gypsy girl sings
at the river's edge.
Deep in the forest
the omens are bad.
a cloud passes over the moon.
White wolf waits.
grey wolf howls
at the girl by the river's edge.
The bullet head boys
with their baby blue eyes,
their donner und blitzen.
the lily white gadje
religiously hatching their plots
in the eyries of eagles.
But the moon's keeping watch
as the Gypsy girl sings,
sees her song rising up
like smoke to the sky
from the dark to the light,
when the Gypsy girl sings
at the river's edge.
Like the sun on the forest
her song rises up. from
the ashes of Auschwitz,
the death camp at Lety.
the white cliffs of Dover,
the song of the Roma
lives on and on...
Trees grow tall
though the winds blow cold.
tall trees grow.
Tall trees grow
where the cold winds blow.
trees grow tall.
You might have a lot to say.
There might be a price to pay.
Just beware.
They might smile and nod their heads,
while they wish that you were dead.
Just beware.
Your Friends might not be what they seem.
Take it from me,
if you're not careful
you might get hurt one last time.
It's just a warning,
beware.
Don't get caught off your guard.
Evil lurks in all our hearts.
Just beware.
You won't last very long,
even if you are strong.
Just beware.
Don't trust anyone.
They might be your enemy.
If you're not careful.
you might get hurt one last time.
It's just a warning.
beware.
beware.
beware.
CUCKOO MADAME |
Alfreda Benge / Robert Wyatt |
Cuckoo Madame
with your teddy bear eye,
yellow fingers clinging to the chain link fence.
Bombers above you.
Bombers behind you.
Disapproval hounds you,
ugly rumour surrounds you.
Solitary madam, we never understood, you
never told us of your battle
with the cuckoo baby blues.
Cuckoo Madame
it's no wonder you're shy.
You're Greta Garbo,
you're the witch of Salem.
You're anti-social, and
you are too bloody lonely
for the likes of us.
We never knew of your battle
with the cuckoo baby blues.
When you saw that egg crack
it froze your blood.
You knew you had to fly then,
had to say goodbye,
had to fly before you saw another mother
feed your chick.
You knew it would break your heart.
You knew it would break your heart.
LULLABY FOR HAMZA |
Alfreda Benge / Robert Wyatt |
When bombers bomb again,
I need your lullaby.
Fires are burning.
The nightmare's begun.
The world is dark again,
I need your lullaby.
Sleep has gone.
Night is long again.
Sing me your song.
Let me sleep.
Bring me peace.
When bombers bomb again,
we'll need your lullaby.
Children cry.
Houses burn again.
Once more.
Sing songs to soothe them,
to dry their tears.
to drown the screams of war.
The world's gone wrong again,
I need your lullaby.
Night is long,
and sleep's just a dream.
Sing your song,
stay close to me.
Sing to me.
Hushabye.
The world is dark again,
I need your lullaby.
Sleep has gone.
Night is much too long again.
Sing me your song,
let me sleep.
Bring me peace.
|
Illustration : Jean-Michel Marchetti |
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TRICKLE DOWN |
Robert Wyatt |
Open your window
lend an ear
and then
pull back the curtain
hurry
so you can hear
Listen to the
hum
as it rises
riding the. breeze
leaving gravity's children
agrounded
Onwards and upwards
that's the way
ever on
beyond the highest plateau
that's OK
There's a reason why some people float
sometimes
are floored
God knows this reason
that's what gods are for
Press on your window feel the pane
INSENSATEZ |
Antonio Carlos Jobim / Vincius DeMoares |
How insensitive I must have seemed
when he told me that he loved me.
How unmoved and cold I must have seemed
when he told me so sincerely.
Why, he must have asked, did I just
turn and stare in icy silence?
What was I to say? What can you say
when a love affair is over?
Now he's gone away, but I'm alone
with the memory of his last look.
Vague and drawn and sad. I see it still,
all his heartbreak in that last look.
Why, he must have asked, did I just
turn and stare in icy silence?
What was I to do? What can one do?
When a love affair is over.
I love suspense.
the thrill of the unknown.
What will I say?
I can't predict.
Where will all this lead?
I don't want to know.
Just take a chance,
things can't get much worse.
Who knows?
They might improve.
There's always hope.
When will I learn to trust myself,
embrace mystery.
not be afraid?
Hold on.
can't walk faster.
can't get up the hill.
Oy! You!
Wait for me,
I'm out of breath.
I'm ill
Slow down.
Slow down.
Hey! You!
Bin that Bebop.
Ditch the dancing.
Night's for lying down.
Bin that Bebop.
Ditch the dancing.
Don that duvet.
Cook the cocoa.
Turn that music down!
Slow down.
Slow down.
Cut those capers.
Keep you hair on.
I should worry.
You should coco.
Dirty stop-out.
Why? Oh why? Oh why?
Slow down.
Slow down.
Night's for lying down.
(Sweet dreams,
old chap,
sweet dreams).
LIFE IS SHEEP |
Karen Mantler |
Life is sheep,
for wool and lots of meat
we buy and sell.
And pets are just a luxury;
ornaments for you and me.
Life is sheep.
If you live on a farm,
instead of names.
the animals all have numbers
So you won't get too attached.
FOREIGN ACCENTS |
Robert Wyatt |
Hiroshima Nagasaki
Nagasaki Hiroshima
arigato Vanunu
ko n nichiwa Mossadegh
arigato Mordechai
ko n nichiwa Mohammad
Hiroshima Nagasaki
Hiroshima Nagasaki
ko n nichiwa arigato
Nagasaki Hiroshima
Nagasaki Hiroshima
arigato Vanunu
ko n nichiwa Mossadegh
arigato Mordechai
ko n nichiwa Mohammad
Hiroshima Nagasaki
ko n nichiwa arigato
BRIAN THE FOX |
Robert Wyatt |
Overnight
Upstream
Downwind
Overland
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