Here at the glass - all the usual problems,
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all the habitual farce.
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You ask, in uncertain voice, what you should do
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as if there were a choice
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but to carry on miming the song
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and hope that it all works out right.
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Tonight it all seems so strange -
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my spirit feels rigid,
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my body deranged;
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still that's only from one point of view
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and we can't have illusion between me and you,
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my constant friend, ever close at hand -
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you and the undercover man.
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I reflect: 'It's very strange to be going
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through this change
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with no idea of what it's all been about
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except in the context of time...'
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Oh, but I shirk it, I've half a mind
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not to work it all out.
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Is this madness just the recurring wave
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of total emotion,
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or a hide for the undercover man,
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or a litany - all the signs are there
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of fervent devotion -
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or the cracking of the dam?
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It's cracked; smashed and bursting over you,
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there was no reason to expect such disaster.
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Now, panicking, you burst for air,
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drowning, you know you care
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for nothing and no-one but yourself
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and would deny even this hand which stretches out
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towards you to help.
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But would I leave you in this moment
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of your trial?
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Is it my fault that I'm here to see you crying?
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These fantom figures all around
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you should have told you,
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you should have found out by now,
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if you hadn't gone and tried to do it all by yourself.
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Even now we are not lost: if you look out
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at the night
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you'll see the colours and the lights seem to say
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people are not far away, at least in distance,
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and it's only our own dumb resistance
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that's making us stay.
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When the madness comes, let it flood on down
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and over me sweetly,
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let it drown the parts of me weak and blessed
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and damned,
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let it slake my life, let it take my soul
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and living completely,
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let it be who I am.
|
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There may not be time for us all to run
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in tandem together -
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the horizon calls with its parallel lines.
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It may not be right for you to have and hold
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in one way forever
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and yet you still have time,
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you still have time
|
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-----------------
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The Undercover Man
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Van Der Graaf Generator |