The garden was silent and empty. A breeze now and then. Ancient statues, trees, temples. A world out of the time. Just my imagination maybe, but all of a suddon the sensation of echoes as they come from the the past, hints of something still floating around.
“Time table” by Genesis, from the album “Foxtrot”. A milestone in the rock history, a wonderful cover too. .. A dusty table Musty smells Tarnished silver lies discarded upon the floor Only feeble light descends through a film of grey That scars the panes. Gone the carving, And those who left their mark, Gone the kings and queens now only the rats hold sway And the weak must die according to nature’s law As old as they. Why, why can we never be sure till we die Or have killed for an answer, Why, why do we suffer each race to believe That no race has been grander It seems because through time and space Though names may change each face retains the mask it wore. "Time table" by Genesis, from the album "Foxtrot"
A milestone in the rock history and a wonderful cover too. A classic you can listen here A carved oak table, Tells a tale Of times when kings and queens sipped wine from goblets gold, And the brave would lead their ladies from out of the room to arbours cool. A time of valour, and legends born A time when honour meant much more to a man than life And the days knew only strife to tell right from wrong Through lance and sword. Why, why can we never be sure till we die Or have killed for an answer, Why, why do we suffer each race to believe That no race has been grander It seems because through time and space Though names may change each face retains the mask it wore .. Syd Barret wrote the musical arrangements of this lyrics when he was 15. The lyrics are originally from a poem in "Chamber Music" by James Joyce (1907). Initially the song was thought as a part of the album "The piper at the gates of down" by Pink Floyd, but it wasn't so because it was too different from the rest of the songs. So it appeared only later in the Syd Barret album "A madcap laughs"
You can listen the song here Lean out your window, golden hair I heard you singing in the midnight air my book is closed, I read no more watching the fire dance, on the floor I've left my book, I've left my room For I heard you singing through the gloom singing and singing, a merry air lean out the window, golden hair... I watched them stepping through the door
She and her son first, close to each other. He was behind, someway detached from them. She looked around and then sat on the bench with the child close to her He decided to stand still, alone There was a good light, the child kept buzzing around, the man was leaning against the wall She was silent and confident I watched the scene for a while, then move to her asking the permission for a picture She looked at me, then smiled and nodded before turning back to her own thoughts |
AuthorA general blog, but still personal. The name as a tribute (my tiny, personal one) to the Crimson King. No specific matter, no specific path or target to be followed or reached. A space where to collect events, ideas, perspectives coming from the world around, but still under my own control. Archives
October 2017
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