[00:00.000] 作曲 : Peter Hammill
[00:01.000] 编曲 : Peter Hammill
[00:05.906]Sometimes it's very scary here
[00:17.795]Sometimes it's very sad
[00:30.168]Sometimes I think I'll disappear
[00:41.424]Betimes I think I have
[00:53.876]There's a line snaking down my mirror
[01:03.243]Splintered glass distorts my face
[01:13.945]And though the light is strong and strange
[01:24.518]It can't illuminate the musty corners of this place
[01:37.217]There is a lofty, lonely, Lohengrenic castle in the clouds;
[01:47.782]Yes, and I draw my murky meanings there
[01:57.979]But seven years' dark luck is just around the corner
[02:08.552]And in the shadows lurks the spectre of Despair
[02:22.025]A cracked mirror 'mid the drapes of the landing:
[02:30.749]Split image, labored understanding
[02:39.022]I'm only trying to find a place to hide my home
[03:12.562]I've lived in houses composed of glass
[03:14.225]Where every movement is charted
[03:16.562]But now the monitor screens are dark
[03:18.511]And I can't tell if silent eyes are there
[03:21.425]My words are spiders upon the page
[03:23.350]They spin out faith, hope and reason
[03:25.581]But are they meet and just
[03:27.484]Or only dust gathering about my chair?
[03:28.756]Sometimes I get the feeling
[03:34.683]That there's someone else there
[03:36.865]The faceless watcher he makes me uneasy
[03:39.941]I can feel him through the floorboards
[03:42.375]And His presence is creepy
[03:44.745]He informs me that I shall be expelled
[03:48.609]What is that but out of and into?
[03:50.387]Don't know the nature of the door that I'd go through
[03:56.064]Don't know the nature of the nature that I am inside…
[04:08.109]I've lived in houses of brick and lead where all emotion is sacred
[04:13.532]And if you want to devour the fruit
[04:15.614]You must first sniff at the fragrance
[04:18.216]And lay your body before the shrine
[04:20.513]With poems and posies and papers
[04:22.781]Or, if you catch the ruse, you'll have to choose
[04:25.291]To stay, a monk, or leave, a vagrant
[04:28.612]What is this place you call home?
[04:32.467]Is it a sermon or a confession?
[04:35.831]Is it the chalice that you use for protection?
[04:40.149]Is it really only somewhere you can stay?
[04:44.708]Is it a rulebook or a lecture?
[04:47.615]Is it a beating at the hands of your Protector?
[04:51.789]Does the idol have feet of clay?
[04:56.796]Home is what you make it
[04:59.128]So my friends all say
[05:03.492]Don't you know I rarely see their homes in these dark days?
[05:12.609]Some of them are snails
[05:15.885]And carry houses on their backs
[05:21.216]Others live in monuments
[05:24.965]Which, one day, will be racks
[05:29.721]I keep my home in place
[05:32.452]With sellotape and tin-tacks
[05:38.210]But I still feel there's some other Force here...
[05:47.544]He who cracks the mirrors and moves the walls
[05:54.272]Keeps staring through the eye-slits of the portraits in my hall
[06:01.785]He ravages my library and taps the telephone
[06:09.647]I've never actually seen Him
[06:12.562]But I know He's in my home
[06:18.788]And if he goes away
[06:22.963]I can't stay here either
[06:30.676]I believe…er…I think…
[06:40.509]Well, I don't know…
[08:03.404]I only live in one room at a time
[08:10.081]But all of the walls are ears and all the windows, eyes
[08:14.975]Everything else is foreign
[08:17.568]And 'home' is my wordless chant:
[08:20.920]Mmmmmaah!
[08:23.212]Give it a chance!
[09:07.516]I am surrounded by flesh and bone
[09:09.798]I am a temple of living
[09:11.870]I am a hermit, I am a drone
[09:14.695]And I am boring out a place to be
[09:17.505]With secret garlands about my head
[09:19.998]Unearthly silence is broke
[09:22.570]The room is growing dark, and in the stark light
[09:25.604]I see a face I know
[09:30.048]Could this be the guy who never shows
[09:32.998]the cracked mirror what he's feeling
[09:36.422]Merely mumbles prayers to the ground where he's kneeling:
[09:40.375]"Home is home is home is home is home is home is me!"?
[09:44.833]All you people looking for your houses
[09:48.490]Don't throw your weight around
[09:50.191]You might break your glasses
[09:52.600]And if you do, you know you just can't see
[09:57.571]And then how are you to find the dawning of the day?
[10:05.250]Day is just a word I use to keep the dark at bay
[10:14.615]People are imaginary
[10:19.747]Nothing else exists except the room I'm sitting in
[10:27.117]And, of course, the all pervading mist
[10:32.198]Sometimes I wonder if even that's real
[10:48.416]Maybe I should de-louse this place
[10:59.155]Maybe I should de-place this louse
[11:10.806]Maybe I'll maybe my life away
[11:23.579]In the confines of this silent house
[11:34.600]Sometimes it's very scary here
[11:45.641]Sometimes it's very sad
[11:56.966]Sometimes I think I'll disappear
[12:08.004]Sometimes I think…
[12:23.740]I… I… I… I…

作曲 : Peter Hammill
编曲 : Peter Hammill
Sometimes it's very scary here
Sometimes it's very sad
Sometimes I think I'll disappear
Betimes I think I have
There's a line snaking down my mirror
Splintered glass distorts my face
And though the light is strong and strange
It can't illuminate the musty corners of this place
There is a lofty, lonely, Lohengrenic castle in the clouds;
Yes, and I draw my murky meanings there
But seven years' dark luck is just around the corner
And in the shadows lurks the spectre of Despair
A cracked mirror 'mid the drapes of the landing:
Split image, labored understanding
I'm only trying to find a place to hide my home
I've lived in houses composed of glass
Where every movement is charted
But now the monitor screens are dark
And I can't tell if silent eyes are there
My words are spiders upon the page
They spin out faith, hope and reason
But are they meet and just
Or only dust gathering about my chair?
Sometimes I get the feeling
That there's someone else there
The faceless watcher he makes me uneasy
I can feel him through the floorboards
And His presence is creepy
He informs me that I shall be expelled
What is that but out of and into?
Don't know the nature of the door that I'd go through
Don't know the nature of the nature that I am inside…
I've lived in houses of brick and lead where all emotion is sacred
And if you want to devour the fruit
You must first sniff at the fragrance
And lay your body before the shrine
With poems and posies and papers
Or, if you catch the ruse, you'll have to choose
To stay, a monk, or leave, a vagrant
What is this place you call home?
Is it a sermon or a confession?
Is it the chalice that you use for protection?
Is it really only somewhere you can stay?
Is it a rulebook or a lecture?
Is it a beating at the hands of your Protector?
Does the idol have feet of clay?
Home is what you make it
So my friends all say
Don't you know I rarely see their homes in these dark days?
Some of them are snails
And carry houses on their backs
Others live in monuments
Which, one day, will be racks
I keep my home in place
With sellotape and tin-tacks
But I still feel there's some other Force here...
He who cracks the mirrors and moves the walls
Keeps staring through the eye-slits of the portraits in my hall
He ravages my library and taps the telephone
I've never actually seen Him
But I know He's in my home
And if he goes away
I can't stay here either
I believe…er…I think…
Well, I don't know…
I only live in one room at a time
But all of the walls are ears and all the windows, eyes
Everything else is foreign
And 'home' is my wordless chant:
Mmmmmaah!
Give it a chance!
I am surrounded by flesh and bone
I am a temple of living
I am a hermit, I am a drone
And I am boring out a place to be
With secret garlands about my head
Unearthly silence is broke
The room is growing dark, and in the stark light
I see a face I know
Could this be the guy who never shows
the cracked mirror what he's feeling
Merely mumbles prayers to the ground where he's kneeling:
"Home is home is home is home is home is home is me!"?
All you people looking for your houses
Don't throw your weight around
You might break your glasses
And if you do, you know you just can't see
And then how are you to find the dawning of the day?
Day is just a word I use to keep the dark at bay
People are imaginary
Nothing else exists except the room I'm sitting in
And, of course, the all pervading mist
Sometimes I wonder if even that's real
Maybe I should de-louse this place
Maybe I should de-place this louse
Maybe I'll maybe my life away
In the confines of this silent house
Sometimes it's very scary here
Sometimes it's very sad
Sometimes I think I'll disappear
Sometimes I think…
I… I… I… I…