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Lyrics
Oh, before the final wave crashes on us and drowns us all. Oh, before the great mouth opens and swallows us whole and swallows us all. Before the wave...before the final wave crashes down on us and drowns us all. Before the wave...before the wave...before the final wave...
From Doris Lessing's "Briefing For a Descent Into Hell":
"...hop on pale rock scalp like toads. And this a gleam of opalescent flesh? The great valves shut like white doors folding close. Stretching and quavering like the face of one Enhanced through chloroform, the smiling face Of her long half-forgotten, her once loved, Rises like thin moon through watery swathes, And passes wall-eyed as the long dead moon. He is armed with the indifference of deep-sea sleep And floats immune through searoots fed with flesh, Where skeletons are bunched against cave roofs Like swarms of bleaching spiders quivering, While crouching engines crusted with pale weed, Their shafts and pistons rocking through the green...
Under my hand
flesh of flowers
Under my hand
warm landscape
You have given me back my world
In you the earth breathes under my hand.
My arms were full of charred branches
My arms were full of painful sand.
Now I sway in rank forests,
I dissolve in strong rivers,
I am the bone the flowers in flesh.
Oh now we reach it-
now,now!
The whistling hub of the world.
It's as if God had spun a whirlpool,
Flung up a new continent.
But we men stood in a line all along the deck
and we sang to them:
If birds still cried on the shore,
If there were horses galloping all night,
Love, I could turn to you and say
Make up the bed,
Put fire to the lamp.
All night long we would lie and hear
The waves beat in, beat in,
If there were still birds on the dunes,
If horses still ran wild along the shore."
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The Gray Field Recordings
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