Andy Tillison - Morning Journey & Arrival lyrics

[1. Last Dark First Light] [Instrumental] [2. Dawn Over Blubberhouses] There's no camera that can see the grey line The overture for the coming dawn That subtle shift that provokes the birdsong The unseen spark that awakes the corn So let the headlights on the road Slicing through the morning murk Be a metaphor for daybreak, or Be our allegory, for work There's no disk that can save our feelings Of an early Tuesday's run into town In the darkness on less than a good sleep Faces set in an unseen frown So let the rain under the wheels Spell the end of what we see as the night Be a metaphor for humdrum Be an allegory, of life [3. When It's Green] My son asked me once: "Dad? Do we see the same thing? ... When it's green?" [4. Car Horn Serenade] [Instrumental] [5. Ants] We carry more weight than our muscles can bear Our infrastructure look familiar when viewed from the air 'Cos we are Ants! Crawling, marching..... We strip our carrion of the last scraps of their flesh Move onto the next victim and start afresh We are Ants! AAAAAAAAaaaaaaaarrrrgggggggnnnnts!!! [6. Bird sh**] I wish we could see this; The heaving bird's eye view from any given height Our ant hill lives below us The crawling cars and snail trails of our human might All the flyovers and tunnels that circle round the church At the centre of our cities where we fight our way to work Where cameras watch our progress on spaghetti-like ring roads To business parks, call centres and retail outlet nodes Park drive late phone talk push bank home work Car Park drive late phone talk push bank home Work Car Park drive late phone talk push bank Home work Car Park drive lat phone talk push It all just looks like bird sh**! Just look on Google Earth - the higher up you climb! And each day we traverse it! An hour from waking up we're driving thirty miles All the people ripped from sleeping in their luxury-mobiles On telephones, computers, all "getting a great deal" To the car parks by the buildings where we hate away our days To buy a little house, a TV and a package holiday And all the blue plaques in all the buildings Say they're "Investors in Our Souls" But I don't believe them, not 'til I see it Until I put my finger in the holes All the time that we give To companies who call themselves our friends All the time that we live with their aims at heart, their intent And then they tell us that we're important, or "We're all part of the whole" I don't believe them, not 'til I see it Until I put my finger in the holes [7. Slow Activity in a Lobby] [Instrumental] [8. Two People In Two Cubicles] In the flickering light she sees Canadian trees Log cabins, warm fires and smiles at the aprés ski She punches in her name to the company mainframe And logs into her pact with the Devil again She is lost, she is floating She's like us all, tied to the fabric we wear She takes it as she finds Lives for the good times She's a product She's a consumer And then she's a girl In the cubicle next door it's time to 'meet the band'; In a Rush T-shirt, pony tail, 2112 tattooed on his hands He's a star through thick and thin But he still gets that data in A modern day warrior, today's Tom Sawyer is a clerk So let the tapping of the keys The hub-bub of the office chat Be a meta for disillusion Be a metaphor for life [9. On The Treadmill] We all found out too late (that the contract's binding) We could never appreciate that the as we saw as kids, and Everything we did were just putting us on the right road Putting our houses on our backs With our mortgages in tow to fill the cracks Between the stuff we can't provide We try to cross the great divide And hope we're on the right road All the things we wanted and all the goals we craved! We were on the treadmill, we became the slaves Oh! Did we get lucky?! Or just a metaphor for life? [10. Fireworks provided by the United Governments of the World to make us feel better for 3.7 minutes. Please return all viewing gla**es.] [Instrumental] [11. More of the aforementioned Bird sh** (reprise)] We are ants! All the flyovers and tunnels that circle round the church At the centre of our cities where we fight our way to work Where cameras watch our progress on spaghetti-like ring roads To business parks, call centres and retail outlet nodes And all the blue plaques in all the buildings Say they're "Investors in Our Souls" But I don't believe them, not 'til I see it Until I put my finger in the holes All the time that we give To companies who call themselves our friends All the time that we live with their aims at heart, their intent And then they tell us that we're important, or "We're all part of the whole" I don't believe them, not 'til I see it Until I put my finger in the holes