Song | Meanwhile My Mother |
Artist | Peter Hammill |
Album | Singularity |
作词 : Hammill | |
Meanwhile, my mother, | |
waiting for what? | |
I don't know... | |
The recall of a favourite memory, | |
or perhaps for a painful one to go? | |
She doesn't let that much show. | |
Meanwhile, above her head | |
all my monologues flows. | |
"What's that you're saying, dear?" | |
Wading through time like it's treacle, | |
her eyes looking into mine although | |
she won't even notice me go. | |
In the meantime I pack her things up | |
and get them ready to store; | |
in between times I take a good look around, | |
for we'll not be visiting here much more. | |
Meanwhile, my mother, | |
distance encamped in her eyes, | |
not quite oblivious but | |
close to a state of inertia | |
in which she won't even realise | |
how everything's passing her by. | |
Meanwhile, my mother, | |
lost in a world of her own, | |
turns to look out of the window | |
down to the verdant earth below. | |
Some journeys we make alone | |
somehow we'll leave all we've known. | |
Meanwhile, my mother, | |
waiting for what? | |
Time to go. |
zuò cí : Hammill | |
Meanwhile, my mother, | |
waiting for what? | |
I don' t know... | |
The recall of a favourite memory, | |
or perhaps for a painful one to go? | |
She doesn' t let that much show. | |
Meanwhile, above her head | |
all my monologues flows. | |
" What' s that you' re saying, dear?" | |
Wading through time like it' s treacle, | |
her eyes looking into mine although | |
she won' t even notice me go. | |
In the meantime I pack her things up | |
and get them ready to store | |
in between times I take a good look around, | |
for we' ll not be visiting here much more. | |
Meanwhile, my mother, | |
distance encamped in her eyes, | |
not quite oblivious but | |
close to a state of inertia | |
in which she won' t even realise | |
how everything' s passing her by. | |
Meanwhile, my mother, | |
lost in a world of her own, | |
turns to look out of the window | |
down to the verdant earth below. | |
Some journeys we make alone | |
somehow we' ll leave all we' ve known. | |
Meanwhile, my mother, | |
waiting for what? | |
Time to go. |