Listen to the dewdrops of the morning Glistening wistfully enchanting Sparkling with a new hue Residue undying Clearless, colourless, yet refracting Every hue of rainbow stroke Hidden beneath the grass blades Humming hymns remisslessly Can you hear them? You can face the dawning. You can face the day. No need for mourning. No need for delay. Few are able to them hear Few do seem to see or care Listen to the dewdrops of the morning Glistening wistfully enchanting Sparkling with a new hue Residue undying You can face the dawning. You can face the day. No need for mourning. No need for delay. Few are able to them hear Few do seem to see or care Can you hear them? The dew the tears of yesterday Past into present blooms away

The day is, lo, bright and blue But what would it be without you— A light without an eye to see it A world without a discovering spirit. I find myself walking up and down the hills Hoping you'll be there Wishing you'll be there A light breeze does kiss gently my cheek Not sure what is meant that I seek Walking ahead, which is nowhere I know But that seems where my life will always go Am I trying too hard? Maybe I should try not to try And just keep on walking, keep on walking [Chorus] After going down, you always go up But maybe it's relativity No matter how you relate, it's “up” to me No thing could ruin this date, if only... Street signs passing, they don't tell me a thing Because I'm away... a way in mind... Oblivious to the obvious But how much can you ask a man of my kind? I find myself walking up and down the hills Hoping you'll be there Wishing you'll be there Up those Northern Hills Let go, let go as you head straight up Nothing to relate—that's everything Just let the neighbourhood surround me And everything confound me (found me) [Chorus] After going down, you always go up But maybe it's relativity No matter how you relate, it's “up” to me No thing could ruin this date, if only... Up those Northern hills Up those Northern hills Up those Northern hills Up those Northern hills

Seasons change, the night grows wide Friendly faces reveal their hidden haunts The lives surreal come out at twilight Where wolves, hooligans, and other wights No longer hide in Hyde Forests of trees and flats everywhere Nameless shadows masquerade Where is the man? I see the mask Hiding within his self-charade. Only so long can you hide behind the part of Jekyll For this is the Park's midnight revel Oh no—it's now grown dark After five stay out of the Park This the place where chaoses preside The darkness abiding there in Hyde A million shadows—am I one of those? What sort of fellow has a duo of names? Things seemed so clear in the daylight walk Now I'm scared of the face of the clock When you thought you can trust a name Then the time begins to unwind So that the number you knew is not the same. There are so many things that Hyde can find All he asks is that you take the mask And your soul give in to the ghoul within Oh no—it's now grown dark After five stay out of the Park This the place where chaoses preside The darkness abiding there in Hyde Now a new parameter blockades the perimeter And you wonder ever what masquerades beyond the familiar The confusion of the cuckoo clock begins at two o clock (Or does it?) This is the twilight carnival spirit. Only so long can you hide behind the part of Jekyll

Eight forty five there she is Shots of espresso brewing, something she's been doing all morning til closing My caffeine levels are too low: Mornings not alive til I have her cup of joe My latte art sweetheart (latte art sweetheart) The milk she steams The eye she beams There's something magical about her beans See what she's left me: A love note of dairy My latte art sweetheart (latte art sweetheart) The crema de la crop Plus whipped cream on top (I like it mocha) Sweetened spice is no real vice This arabica barista (full-bodied) A little bit illicit (robust kick) Eyes of hazelnut (syrup!) Blonde roasts are best, but I like mine dark My latte art sweetheart (latte art sweetheart) She's a master at this, you can tell Months of practice behind the till Even when superfluous, I go there still Dear latte artist, all is well “Good morning sir” she says to me But what might mean this pleasantry? Every day it's still the same— She knows my drink, but not my name Oh, the girl and the coffee I go although I don't have the money What we could have, a lived fantasy But who knows maybe she only drinks tea.

It is coming, covering What was open in the scene The mysts, they envelope things To uncover hidden themes Withdrawn from view. Sit there you, Remembering, under the Moonbeam fading into dream, A path that was not a way. The mysts, this is what they say: “Our Lethean mysteries, Balm of leaden miseries, Partake of them, if you please for your swift ease.” (So they spake) “But what are they?” you ask, Mindfully, of adrift pasts Remembering, wistfully, Of the trysts that you have missed. Days that should have spent in bliss Covered now in shroud of myst. And this is what they say, the mysts, “Vapours in the atmosphere Flares of heat from solar sphere And icy chills down under: Elements commingling, Uncoupling and entwining, We are what they kin, the birth From dyads undulating Maiden wraiths aethereal, Mystresses of Boreal Existing between the realms Of the things real and unreal; Descendants of a dewdrop Conceived in a full moon night Of Yes and No, long ago, Presence now as fairy sprite. Evanescence of essence Fading and yet pervading Seemingly vanishing, yet Not not there. Lost silhouette. Banishing the times too clear In memory. Do you now see? We can make it all unmissed, Etch the mind oblivious To its tale of past misses. Whimsicality can entice— Reality has its price. That is why we come, when sun And moon are neither either, The fairies robed in aether, Dubiously existing In a liminal estate On eve of hymenal wake.” (So they spake.) The land of mysts can be seen In uncertain air of morning, Can be heard from unspoken Aria of yearning. For when in the land of mysts,

Morning daze and evening drowse What will it come to? Our lives the dreams of past years Days governed by automaton gears The man along Brownberrie Lane Says he has true knowledge in his pocket Take a bite into the Apple and Fall into his spell Do you think we'll live forever Or is it just a metaphor For the story they are telling? Hear the colours Here, about us The Wisdom of the books, Symbols of Faustian allure What you think you know of reality is there no more Are you sure? of your symbology Breathe, decipher, rise Breathe, decipher, rise The metaphoric totality Euphoric modality Metamorphic reality The mythology of the past and phenomenal world: Experience is beyond us Take to hand your mystical sword All you need is an opening opening opening Awaken in the home of the King All unwritten he is watching Descendants are we all Heirs to the symbol royal Awakening If you rise in the new symbiology A revelation are we bringing Come, and follow we Come, into our new vision

Snow whistling; tracks criss-crossing Where are we now? It's that time of year Step back and get our bear-ings You let me dooowwwn and I can't turn arooouuuund because Trains only ride forward Don't get cross with me I'm a man, not a divinity Where do these tracks lead At the crossroads of our calvary I know I've got blood And I know I've got blame But that's not a reason For this game. I can read the signs I can see the tracks Heading away But where was the cross? Where are the facts? Don't you know the way of snow? Every step leaves an imprint You can cover it up, But erase it you didn't. Sometimes stars betraaaay us Are theeeeeey your guides? Or is it just another disguise? A train is coming. Your option Is now, at this time of year Don't get left cold standing there, Don't stop at the fourteenth station. Don't get cross with me I'm a man, not a divinity Where do these tracks lead

She should have died hereafter— There would have been a time for such a word Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow Creeps in this petty pace from day to day To the last syllable of recorded time And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage And then is heard no more; it is a tale Told by an Idiot, full of sound and fury Signifying nothing

Bodies all a-flailing Here in the moshes of the pits The marshes of swamped wits Refugees of the city Of the... technology Skyscraper, shadow over me Concrete prison street Urban glossy institutes Lab rats in business suits No roots will grow here Technology all about me Technology all about me Stop sign bright and red And arbitrary It does not mark a pause, For it is a sign of life's speediness Which has left them necessary Those turning wheels Modern quintessence Yet old as man exists Archetypal apparatus Speeding away in the incandescence Technology all about me Technology all about me Rods and cogs of suburbs Frankenstein cyborgs The metrics of the metro. I'm surrounded I'm surrounded I'm surrounded That radio grasps me Transmits its sway Its appetite growing They're a part of me Limbed apparatuses A mechanical man. With a mechanical life. And mechanical wife, all full technological—that's right Matrimony in the metro. Those wheels keep turning the gears in my mind turning mechanisms of the heart turning pulses in the liver burning. Those wheels keep turning the gears in my mind turning mechanisms of the heart turning pulses in the liver burning overloaded. A sensorium conundrum Where's that body of yours? I need that love of yours Let's get past the smoke. Let's get the flames There's that klanking about us, a swirling city Of too much revolving Can we find a centre? Can we be a still point? Can we screen it out, and start dissolving, mortal solubles mortal solubles something tangible get to get to