Roy Harper - The Lord's Prayer Lyrics
a) Poemb) Modal Song parts I to IVc) Front Songd) Middle Songe) End Song (Front Song reprise)There once was a man from the old stone ageAnd he used to follow the weatherBut now he's got hung up on filling a pageUpon whether to go or togetherAnd he's been around for so damn longWith his whooping and wailingCrushing questions between right and wrongAnd impalingThe best he can hope and the worst he can fearOn the solstices of an illusionA massive erection of pushy defenceUp the whole of the prosecutionGreat solace the wound, great relish the painTo be loosing the reins of a poemTo bleed from the tip of my tongue yet againThat part of my heart that is showingThese children conceived in the womb of this crashTo be the sponsors of nothing much moreThan rearguard directions of crossfingered sectionsOf purpose pot - looking for nothingBut what is this last desperate vestige of heart over headBut another conjectureNo more the tomb of the martyred deadThan the ghost of our parting gestureAnd a hundred billion crystal ballsRepresent a remarkable failureTo swell the song each moment longAt the counterpoint of natureAs four thumbs flick the tarot deckAnd two tongues fork eight acesMaybe sixteen fingers feelThe fool lives in two placesWhere rosy lee can read this teaAnd leave me living the storyA white dove with a hawks' headAnd an open mind before meTo sail for a land where life is a highNot a word to be heard or be spokenBut the soul - woven web of the endless touchOf a child who could never be brokenWho plays a new world on the brink of the ebbAs the fish cats prowl in the harbourAnd now soars high on the beckoning tides' long armTo weigh his last anchorAnd the sou'westers sing as the lifeboat bells ringIn the heads on the faces of changesThe heavens collage on excalibres edgeThe star in his movie convergesWith fate, in his task, and doom on his browAnd a ship in his eye in a bottleWho speeds, to force, to want, to have,To find, to further fortune,Who comes from the north, west, south and eastOf the passions of a spiritWitl all the flight of the wildest beastTo ever spurr a stirrup,Whose pulse is the master of actionWhose heart is an everlasting secretWhose arms are desireWhose lips are welcomeWhose eyes tell storiesWhose head is a journeyWhose hands unfoldWhose feet flyWhose face is the stained glass window of a continuous orgasm.Whose being is mineWhose wounds are preciousWhose poem is a flowerWhose gentleness is the devilWhose indentity is *****Whose magic is a giftWhose power is the transparent tapestry of historyWhose stamp is a freakWhose wits are battlesWhose cousin is dogWhose times are well fought forWhose stoneage is cleverWhose poets knowWhose music is barbarianWhose artists are helpless spherical mirrors spinning on the horns of a tidal waveWhose information is beliefWhose complexes become religionWhose foundation is spreadWhose word is godWhose books are projectilesWhose message is mustWhose excuse is holyWho passed it down to me;Whose enemies are landmarksWhose fear is himselfWhose hope is lustWhose wish is freshWhose position is waryWhose mottoes are coversWhose name is hiddenWhose nose is suspiciousWhose technology is a tangentWhose strategy is dissentWhose thoughts are gamesWho shares his lotWhose ace is deathWhose fingers inventWhose tales weaveWhose knots are tiedWhose mouth is openWhose ears pierceWhose direction is outWho is aware of diseaseWho feels the need to cleanse his soulWhose style is disguiseWhose dream is innateWhose woman is soothingWhose little children are the delicate blossom of an orchard of electricityWhose spell is for conflictWhose quest is strengthWhose war declaredWhose suicide is noticedWhose shadow is castWhose vibes you feelWhose pedigrees are hauntedWhose age is unknownWho takes under his wingWhose freaks are realWhose reality is hungerWhose words are jaggedWhose tears are shedWhose sick hangWhose weak are kickedWhose cities are bad sheltersWhose sanctuary is an ideaWho sat round a fireWhose teeth chewWhose faith is changeWhose old age comes quicklyWhose youth burnsWhose systems are white sticks tapping wallsWhose prize posession is the planet;Whose wildest lust is escalationWhose cul-de-sacs are feelersWhose main route is massiveWhose run is a danceWhose vehicle is fantasyWhose home is highWhose role continuesWhose bearing is savageWhose saints are deadWhose sons barkWhose daughters playWhose strength is againstWho grows in the sun and sleeps in the moonWho roams deserets, plateaux, mountains, forests and plains with vast armiesWho am IThe spirit of those who were not hereAnd never knew itWho left this prayer to elopeA lover's journey through itSo children leave your windows openAcross the seaJoin our hands across the many landYou and meNever grown oldSeeing without ever being toldSomething to sayShut awayBlackboard so greyAnywayI'm dreamingOut along the back rowOut the windowCast awayBe free with meTodayGreat heart mean streakSpare part speed freakI set myself a problem when I built myself a wheelI got myself another when I rode a horse to feelThe plains underneath my reinsAs fast as running waterAnd the big lady I'm playing withHas played a game of pokerWith me and cat and this and thatUntil she scored my jokerNow we ride in chariotsBy the side of one anotherHer soft sideMy rough ride,Nothing to fearThe unknown soldier's grave is already hereIs it too lateTo createA world made with careIs it thereOr fleetingHere today and goneTomorrow's childLooking so wild and freeAre we a choiceWith no voiceCan it beGreat heart, mean streakSpare part speed freak
