1
When it's summer
And the skies are glass
I just have to make the evenings last
They're always flying past
When it's raining and the sky is black
I just love to hear the thunder roll
And see the lightning crack
With fading powers
We sit for hours
By a television screen
With funny cigarettes
And talk for hours
Of the places we have seen
Brother can you hear my voice
Every second that you cling to life
You have to feel alive
It's an easy thing to sell your skin
When the devil's banging on your door
You always let him in
With fading powers
We dream of hours
That will never come again
Old defenders are themselves defenceless
When the mad attack the sane
What can you do
When you see no future
In front of you
Food for the few
So many it seems are in front of you
I see my face
Reflected there in your sweating brow
You hate what you see
What can you do
When there's no way out
Well there's no way out
Brother can you hear my voice
Every second that you cling to life
You have to feel alive
But when you sleep
Where do you go?
And the skies are glass
I just have to make the evenings last
They're always flying past
When it's raining and the sky is black
I just love to hear the thunder roll
And see the lightning crack
With fading powers
We sit for hours
By a television screen
With funny cigarettes
And talk for hours
Of the places we have seen
Brother can you hear my voice
Every second that you cling to life
You have to feel alive
It's an easy thing to sell your skin
When the devil's banging on your door
You always let him in
With fading powers
We dream of hours
That will never come again
Old defenders are themselves defenceless
When the mad attack the sane
What can you do
When you see no future
In front of you
Food for the few
So many it seems are in front of you
I see my face
Reflected there in your sweating brow
You hate what you see
What can you do
When there's no way out
Well there's no way out
Brother can you hear my voice
Every second that you cling to life
You have to feel alive
But when you sleep
Where do you go?
Lyrics submitted by mightypotato
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Mark Burgess explains it like this:
'...the lyrics came from frequent visits to a home for retired service men called Broughton House, in Salford Manchester, were I'd often go to visit my grandfather. It made me very aware of my own relative youth and how precious my time was. There was one chap there, a former seaman in the merchant navy, who was bound to a wheelchair and likened his life there to being buried alive. I use to take him some hash whenever I went over and he'd sit in his chair, getting stoned and watching TV. He'd call them "funny cigarettes." He used to talk of all these far-away exotic sounding places he'd visited, like Tangier.'
P.S. Great, creepy, sad song.