( Hammill )
Still waiting for my saviour, storms tear me limb from limb
my fingers feel like seaweed, I'm so far out I'm too far in
I am a lonely man my solitude is true
my eyes have borne stark witness and now my nights are
numbered too:
I've seen the smiles on dead hands
the stars shine but they're not for me
I prophesy disaster and then I count the cost
I shine, but shining, dying, I know that I am almost lost
On the table lies blank paper and my tower is built on stone
I only have blunt scissors I only have the bluntest home.
I've been the witness, and the seal of death
lingers in the molten wax that is my head
When you see the skeletons of sailing-ship spars sinking low
You'll begin to wonder if the points of all the ancients myths
are solemnly directed straight at you.
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