If the freedom of speech is taken away then dumb and silent we may be led, like sheep to the slaughter.

- George Washington

Monday, 6 July 2009

Nothing left to say

Those who know me in Real Life ™ know that I am a big fan of the music of Pete Atkin. Atkin was in the Cambridge Footlights with Clive James and together they wrote some amazing music in the 70s. Atkin did the notes; James wrote the words. The music was to some extent the soundtrack of my sixth-form and university days, and to my great pleasure the old albums have recently been released and even some new material produced. A song from the 'Secret Drinker' album (1974) has been going round in my head for the last few days. Perhaps it's how I feel at the moment. Find out more at Pete's homepage.

The breakers from the sea that kept me sane
Were clean and lucid, all along the line
Like shavings tumbled upward from the plane
That leave with ease the surface of the pine
When the carpenter is planing with the grain
It's nothing
Nothing but a dream of mine

And I have come to nothing in a way
That leaves me with nothing left to say

Half a lifetime bending with the breeze
To buy the stuff I don't know how to use
A deck of credit-cards, a bunch of keys
A station I achieved but didn't choose
The screws are on and no-one beats the squeeze
It's nothing
Nothing I can't bear to lose

And I have come to nothing in a way
That leaves me with nothing left to say

The sea I dreamed of closes like a vice
Parading waves are frozen into place
Their veils of vapour scattering like rice
And far below, the ultimate disgrace
A mermaid crushed to death inside the ice
It's nothing
Nothing but a frightened face

And I have come to nothing in a way
That leaves me with nothing left to say

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