( 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.