| WHO WILL ACCUSE? |
Chris Cutler / Lindsay Cooper |
This life is bare
And cold
And I am old
And tired of truth
Must we forever
Make our History
In this Cold
Country?
Who will accuse us
If we choose
To dream
To take a World
Already made
To sit before
A fire that warms
And not to ask
Who built it, or
What burns?
| HEART OF STONE |
Chris Cutler / Lindsay Cooper |
The hearts of stone were here
Where waters wash
The ones who spoke and
Would not hear, the ones
Who built the walls
These miles were theirs
These ranks of Air
Now only blooms recall
The glory and the pity of
Their fall
| MOSS |
Chris Cutler / Lindsay Cooper |
I fell in the moss
I grasped the grass
I bit the earth
I pressed myself against
The Earth
I held it tightly
Nothing stirred
I waited
The air moved, slightly
The grass moved
The leaves moved in the trees
A thousand insects moved
I moved and
The World moved
Lightly
I was not
Deceived
| WAITED/JUSTICE |
Chris Cutler / Lindsay Cooper |
I waited, at the gate
I waited, for a Word
I waited, to be judged
- Or to be heard
I only aged
Unloved - I found
Despair
Who all my days
Stood at the gate and
Waited others
There
|
