(Hammill)

These days I mainly just talk to plants and dogs,
All human contact seems painful, risky, odd,
So I stay acting god in my own universe
Where I trade cigarettes in return for songs
The deal's made harder the longer I go on:
I find me gone from all but secret languages

If only I could phrase satisfactory words
In conversation, to make my passion heard,
If only

Meurglys III, he's my friend,
The only one that I can trust
To let it be without pretence,
There's no-one else
It's killing me, but in the end
There's no-one else I know is true,
There's none in all the masks of men,
There's nothing else
But my guitar
I suppose he'll have to do

Talking in tongues is easy when you know how,
Quite pleasing, but still nothing works out right
Pressurised lungs, heart bleeding, you'd better slow down
And show that you can make it through the night
However dark it seems, the present is just the present,
Beyond it no further darkness lies concealed
And through these desperate dreams,
This longing for friends and comfort,
You know that in the end all will be revealed
When no more plants or dogs or rooms are there to hear you,
And no-one is left near you, then you'll see:
In the end there's only you and Meurglys III,
And this is just what you chose to be
(Fool!)

Though I know all this is just escape,
I run because I don't know where the prison lies
In songs like this I can bear the weight;
I'm running still,
I shall until,
One day, I hope that I'll arrive