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an old servant - pip proud lyrics

[i]
looking backwards thru a mirror
a crystal servant unfolds a map
taking two sips of some wild liquor
he flips his finger nail and exclaims:
“my t**th these days are wobbly now
i cannot contain my friends
i built long stairs in tunnelling dreams
but i am still thin.”
he winds his back to arches through
and turning spends him self in horror
gives to a multitude of diverse faces
fed to mouths and crystal faces
sheds his arms, “i split my skin
wound my heart in paper thin.”
learnt his words his mouth’s to sing
split his head and missed some parts
lost his length within his bredth
“there is no up and there is no down
there is no low but degrees of high
she has my height and has my bredth
but still im loose, i have my length.”
talking hard his head he jerks
spills the words, his grey hair gleams
the reflections of the room
“i say, i say” he says in pain
“‘i can only say im lonely these days
i clambered thru the pipes that shine
lost all thought in the boiler room
i have the prestige of some old maid
i have the thrust of new clean swords.”
she tripping weakly*high by him
explodes her clatter with her chatter
and stills her heels and running*quickly
talks to him:
“in days of old they grew your hair
they wound it up like taffy dear
take a seat, the boss’s eyes are weak
share the comfort of my speaking’s gentle thrill
move your eyes thats all i ask.”
and she moves again cl!cking past
in her shoes of fine old leather
down the hall and wounds the door, disappears
“i have my yawns and they feel warm
i have the heavy scorn i like
and in it all i am still alive
i have my heart and it is fast.”
he takes the revolver that made him a man
k!lls the smoke rings in the air
sways about his arm’s thin spree
says of man and beast and the servants station
in all its aching
wants some lancing in the field
and then in his eye a clot is blown
and forms as some far exploding star
blackens at the centre and pulps
and whiffs his mind to hemorrage dust
in the mist of twilight now
speaking is a man in green;
“give me your hand and i will explain
this and the conclusion of your pain.”
[ii]
father grumbling explains tea is late
the plates are cold and forehead bare
upon some imagined steed
upon the smoke he curls
the knight in armour unwhirls
and freaklike breaks as cake

- pip proud lyrics

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