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Grey ©

Gordon Fjaelberg
Bridgend, Wales
1992

Grey blew the sky,
Grey blew the sea,
Grey blew my mind
And I find
That grey knows all
About me.
Grey was the dawn
Of another day;
Grey was the shroud
As it bowed
To show me
A different way.

Kept my street-machine warm,
I would weather the storm
If you lived
Just a little bit nearer.
Got your message today,
I'd be well on my way
If the skies
Were a little bit clearer.
All the telephone lines
Coming down, it's the times,
And the signs
Are depressingly bleaker.
With my horoscope read
Grew a mind full of dread,
Now I feel
Just that little bit weaker.

Why does everybody
Try to hem me in?
Why can't they just
Leave me to
My own device?
I'm on the road again,
It's no great thing;
Why can't they just
Leave me in
My Paradise?
What is happening to me?
Something is happening,
I can't explain.
Something is happening to me;
Something is happening,
It's here again.

Where is the spark
That I must feel
To let me show
That I know
These visions
Cannot be real?
Smoke everywhere,
Such a swirling fog;
This is only a dream
Yet I scream
Aloud, like a wounded dog.

As I'm racing along
Everything's going wrong,
All this stuff's getting
Terribly weird.
Panic grips at my throat,
Rain is shrinking my coat,
Now the world's
Even worse than I feared.
People come into view,
People that I once knew,
What's the song
Everybody is singing?
Lights go by in a flash,
First a dot
Then a dash,
What's those bells
Everybody keeps ringing?

"No hope of Hell
Nor Heaven too;
We wander free
Unmercifully,
And this will
Happen to you!"

I woke up in a sweat
But the lights are there yet;
They're becoming
Exceedingly brighter.
As the seconds degrade,
As the minutes now fade,
Any chance of
Survival gets slighter.

Grey is the view
From the grave-yard gate;
No rest or peace,
These have ceased,
Now grey
Has become my Fate.
Ambitions fly,
By the tomb-stone wide,
Through billowing green
You can just be seen,
But I cannot reach your side.

Grey blew the sky,
Grey blew the sea,
Grey blew my mind
And I find
That grey knew more than me.
Grey was the dawn
Of the beating drum,
Grey was the shroud
As it bowed;
Now grey is
What I've become.

"No hope of Hell,
Nor Heaven too;
We wander free
Unmercifully,
And this will
Happen to you."



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