Peter Hammill Palinurus (castaway)
Oh, I'm looking for a white note to consolidate the key, like the pilot of a night boat in a strange, uncharted sea: Palinurus, as unsure as he can be of his direction... hell, this section's all Greek to me.
There's so much I had to mention but it seems to slip my mind; still, I swear that my intentions never left my hopes behind like the captain who's been trapped in the blind eye of the whirlwind... so he turns in search of the divine.
I've got no answers either, I've got some stories on lucky days... the sea-lanes are crowded with people like us: Castaways.
From soprano through to basso my voice so strains to tell, but I'm lost in the Sargasso of ideas that didn't gel by a fraction, so the action is dispelled. Me, I've got dull reactions, protraction of doubt as well, so it's no more abide with me, over the side with me... well, I know that damn well...
Oh, this hump-back of emotion, it all seems to go so fast: one moment prince of the ocean and the next upon the raft.
