The path here over winter grew
With wild madder and rest harrow
I came to tread another in
At the end of spring
I walk my miseries here on a leash
The strait of dover
A silver
Verisimilar
Damascun road
The sea wrack brought in this afternoon
A boy in the shape of a balloon
His jumper a rashidun green
Came clear there was no rousing him
So, I wrote for him a name
Before the police came
To tarpaulin
And erase the evidence
Crisis to crisis
Life needn’t be like this
Or must it?
And must I be oblivious nor ask why
Just to hear the hymn of the haar
Or haulaway to harbour
Easterlies at Shakespeare cliff provoking the precipice
Here come the lee waves shuddering the nape of bluff enough delusion
My crop will fail
The scansion of the spindrift binds me to the metre of despair
Crisis to crisis
Life once was not like this
Or was it?
Or was I to delirious to realise or to hear
The hymn of the haar
And haulaway to harbour
The shadow needs the light
To keep its void in sight
The left wing needs the right
To keep the beast in flight
Skylark to bugloss
To self heal to cormorant
To samphire to plover
No bluebird flies over
Here in the hymn of the haar
As we haulaway to harbour
Or were the voices just too loud today to let you tell anybody?
Or back across the bar them pray, “Oft him anhaga are gebideð.”
Other lyrics by Patrick Wolf:
Better Or Worse
Heaven calling Your maiden name through the howling Flooding plain Where you buried Your hooden horse After betrayal Before divorce Handbells Wait to chime The day you …
Dies Irae
The night is yet to fall Not yet your funeral While we’re alive, alive, alive-oh What can I do to help you Hold back tomorrow? Show me your unfinished painting What …
Foreland
What’s that burning in the distance? Either the Redsand Fort or a ship Or my eyes are showing their age See that line form ‘cross the chalk stack insolent to …
Hymn Of The Haar
The path here over winter grew With wild madder and rest harrow I came to tread another in At the end of spring I walk my miseries here on a leash The strait of dover A …
Jupiter
No straw to gold ‘Round parts like these here A burnt out bus sticks up Sundial in the weir Losing a game We were not playing Gone to seed Twisting in the wind …