Envelopes of Yesterday-Pete Sinfield

[00:35.27] i feel like a rusty key i don't fit any door [00:42.24] you stole my cloudy castles but you didn't say what for [00:49.41] you said i didn't have the eyes to paint out in the street [00:56.50] without a standard martyr's hat and neon sloganned feet [01:04.04] to eat, it seems, i needed you, for crumbs your need was me [01:11.15] we cheered and passed the sanguine flask till the iceman made me see [01:18.05] at five o'clock you could never wash your printer's stain away [01:25.01] so i count you lost and your words i've tossed [01:28.49] in the bleary(weary) envelopes of yesterday... [01:35.81] [01:37.68] i feel like a tumbling kite there's no hand on my reel [01:44.63] i dived aboard your star-bright ship to find you'd left the wheel [01:51.74] to hunt some upstart passengers who had gambled with their fare [01:58.56] then trumpeted the hull with holes and laughing gone by air [02:05.72] whilst most of us who stayed aboard slipped brandy to the crew [02:12.79] john purser locked his iron box and pointed at the queue [02:19.72] still working out the price of time no echoes will we lay [02:26.83] so i've burnt the till and i've thrown the bills [02:30.71] in the weary(weary) envelopes of yesterday... [02:37.68] [03:21.04] i need to suck the breasts of time and freeze her milk in ink [03:28.24] to juggle cruets full of dreams and balance on the brink [03:35.04] don't blame me if my smoke and steam obscured your rutted track [03:42.09] i only meant to startle you not offer you my back [03:49.21] to ride upon and overload with your jars of unbaked clay [03:55.96] you can find your guide to the pulpit ride [03:59.57] in the dreary(weary) envelopes of yesterday... [04:06.55] [04:09.43] i'm upside down, i'm an empty town, my eyes are full of ghost [04:17.22] of dusty windowed certainty and spider-webbed almost [04:23.95] i love, i hate this rock and roll, the ladies and the lights [04:30.70] ate all my flowers long ago but the roots came through all right [04:37.65] whilst now my toast is the crossroads post, i hear just out of sight [04:44.81] that the black pick's found his chaldean lamp [04:48.30] after years in a concentration camp [04:51.67] but i fear he's still out on the ice [04:55.08] with his bagpipe mouth and his cup of crimson speiss [05:02.32] [05:25.80] still, i've fulfilled a host of dreams for that i'll cry hurray [05:26:00] (Still, I've explored a plague of dreams and I've led the masquerade) [05:32.61] but it won't be long till i cast this song [05:36.33] in the jet-edged envelopes... [05:36.53] (in the ash-filled envelopes...) [05:39.89]