A Louse Is Not A Home (PETER HAMMILL: The Silent Corner, The Empty Stage)
SA#ometFimes Gmit's vD#ery sDcary here; sA#ometFimes Gmit's vD#ery sDad;
sD#ometGmimes D#I thFink I'll disapGmpear; bD#e_tFimes GmI thD#ink I hDave.
ThD#ere's a lFine snGmaking dD#own my mDirror:
spD#lintered glFass dGmistD#orts my fDace,
D#and thGmough thD#e lFight is strong and strGmange
D#it cFan't illuminate the mGmusty cD#orners of this plDace.
ThD#ere is a lFofty, lonely, Lohengrenic castle in thGme clD#oudDs -
[yD#es and ]I drFaw mGmy D#murky meanings thDere,
bD#ut sGmeven years' dD#ark lFuck is just arGmound the corner
D#and in the shFadows lurks Gmthe spD#ectre of DDespair.
DmA cracked mirror mid the drapes of the landing:
Csplit image, labored understanding -
A#I'm only trying to find a plAace to hide my hDmome...
[trumpet-like:] Dm C Dm Dm C Dm Dm C D
[Bass-Drums:] G Am C Am, G Am C D Am [twice, with different timings] x 2
GI've lAmived in hCouses composed Amof glass
Gwhere Amevery mCovement Dis chAmarted,
Gbut nAmow the mConitor screens Amare dark
Gand AmI can't tell if sCilent Deyes are thAmere.
GMy wAmords are sCpiders upon the pAmage,
Gthey sAmpin out faCith, hoDpe and reAmason
Gbut aAmre they mCeet and just, or only dDust gatheCring abDout my
chair?
A#Sometimes I get the fAeeling that there's
someone else thDmere :
DmThe faceless watcher [he] makes me uneasy,
CI can feel him through the floorboards, and His presence is creepy
A#He informs me that AI shall be expDmelled...
WDmhat is that but out of and into :
[CI] don't know the nature of the door that I'd go through,
[AmI] don't know the nature of the nature that I am inA#side...
GI've lAmived in hCouses of brick Amand lead
Gwhere Amall emotiCon is sDacred,Am
Gand if Amyou want Cto devour the Amfruit
Gyou muAmst first Csniff at Dthe frAmagrance
(same tune and chords, with more intermediate notes played)
Gand laAmy your boCdy before the sAmhrine
Gwith pAmoems and Cposies aDnd papeAmrs -
Gor, if Amyou catcCh the ruse, youAm'll have to choose
Cto stay, a moDnk, or leCave, a Dvagrant.
WA#hat is this place yAou call home?
DmIs it a sermon or a confession?
CIs it the chalice that you use for protection?
A#Is it really only soAmewhere you can stay?
DmIs it a rule-book or a lecture?
CIs it a beating at the hands of your Protector?
A#Does the idol have fAeet of clay?
DmHome is what you make it, so my friends all say,
Cbut dont't you know I rarely see their hBmomes in these dark days.
DmSome of them are snails and carry houses on their backs;
Cothers live in monuments whBmich, one day, will be racks -
Dm C A#(G AA#)
I keep my home in place with sellotape and tin-tacks,
A#but I still feel there's Amsome other Force hDmere:
F Em(4-0)
He who cracks the mirrors and moves the walls
Dmkeeps staring through the eye-slits of the portraits in my hall;
F Em(4-0)
He ravages my library and taps the telephone -
DmI've never actually seen Him,
but I know He's in my home
D#and if he gFoes away,
GmI can't stD#ay here Deither.
D# F Gm D# D D#...
I believe - er - I think - well, I don't know...
[Here, I only catch notes, not the chords]
I only live in one room at a time,
but all of the walls are ears, andall the windows, eyes :
Everything else is foreign,
'Home' is my wordless chant:
mmmmmaah!
Give it a chance!
GI am sAmurrounded Cby flesh and bAmone,
GI am a Amtemple Cof liDving,Am
GI am a Amhermit, CI am a drAmone,
Gand I Amam boninCg out a pDlace to Ambe.
GWith sAmecret garClands about my Amhead
GuneartAmhly silCence iDs broAmken:
Gthe roAmom is groCwing dark, and Amin the stark light
CI can sDee a fCace I kDnow -
A#could this be the gAuy who never shDmows
Dmthe cracked mirror what he's feeling,
Cmerely mumbles prayers to the ground where he's kneeling :
A#"Home is home is home is home is home is
Ahouse is house is house is] home is Dmme!"
DmAll you people looking for your houses,
Cdon't throw your weight around, you might break your glasses
aA#nd if you do, you knAow you just can't Dmsee
Dmand then how are you to find the dawning of the day?
C- Day is just a word I use Bmto keep the dark at bay,
Dmand people are imaginary, nothing else exists
Cexcept the room I'm sitting in,
and, of cBmourse, the all-pervading mist -
Dm C A#(Em C) Dm
sometimes I wonder if even that's real...
D#MaybFe EmI shD#ould de-lDouse this place;
D#MaybFe EmI shD#ould de-place this loDuse;
D#MaybGme D#I'll mFaybe my life awGmay
D#in the cFonfines Gmof this sD#ilent hDouse.
SD#ometFimes Gm D#it's very scDary here; sD#ometFimes Gm D#it's vDery sad;
D# Gm D# F Gm D# F Gm D#... D
sometimes I think I'll disappear; sometimes I think...
Credit to: Jose Javier Glaria at Hammill.ru