1973 Lifemask - Roy Harper

Productor: Peter Jenner.
Ingenieros de sonido: John Leckie, Phil McDonald, Nick Webb.
Estudios: Abbey Road Studios, Londres, Inglaterra.
Discográfica U.K: Harvest Records.
Nº de catalogo: SHVL 808
Discográfica U.S.A: Chrysalis Records.
Nº de catalogo: CHR 1162.
Diseño de portada: Hipgnosis.


Tracks:

Lado 1.

01 Highway Blues.
(R. Harper)   6:34
02 All Ireland.
(R. Harper)   2:52
03 Little Lady.
(R. Harper)   4:19
04 Bank of the Dead.
(R. Harper)   3:13
05 South Africa.
(R. Harper)   4:06

Lado 2.

06 The Lord's Prayer.
(R. Harper)   22:55
a) Poem.
b) Modal Song Parts I to IV.
c) Front Song.
d) Middle Song.
e) End Song.

Tiempo total: 43:59 minutos.

Vinyl Long Play - Edición U.K:

Discográfica U.K: Harvest Records.

Nº de catalogo: SHVL 808 

 Portada.

 Contraportada.

Carpeta.

 Interior carpeta.

Etiqueta lado 1.

Roy Harper:

Voz, guitarra, sintetizador, bajo, armónica, campanas.

Músicos:

Jimmy Page: Guitarra (Bank of the Dead; The Lord's Prayer)

Laurie Allan: Batería (Highway Blues).

Steve Broughton: Bongos (The Lord's Prayer).

Tony Carr: Bongos (The Lord's Prayer) tambores (Bank of the Dead).

Brian Davison: Batería (The Lord's Prayer).

Brian Odgers: Bajo (Bank of the Dead; The Lord's Prayer).

Ray Warleigh: Flauta (The Lord's Prayer).

Letras:

Highway Blues.

(R. Harper)

Take a look down your highway

Tell me what d'you see

Well if you're down my way

It could well be me.

Stood on your corner

I'm nearly down on one knee

Can you hear me calling for you

So damn easy to see.

And it can't be forever

And it won't be for long

So don't you think that it's better

We speak the same tongue.

Out here in this weather

We must surely belong

Birds of a feather

Whatever the song:

Please give me a lift man

It can't be for far

The way that you shift man

In your empty car

I've got the highway blues

In my holy (holey, wholly) shoes

And I cannot choose

What I look like.

And I got here from yesterday

On porridge and bait

Swallowing sorrow

Following fate.

Poaching tomorrow

From God and the state

Of homo his shadow

The well known long haired straight

But I've got a good reason

For being this way

I'm happy for certain

And hoping to stay.

Travelling trust

Across the new day

Gathering dust

Down your highway.

Please give me a lift man...

It can't be for far

The way that you shift man

In your empty car.

I've got the highway blues

In my holy shoes

And I cannot choose

What I look like.

Out on the streets

Or where my drum beats

In between the clean sheets

Of my love life.

And I need little Margaret

Out here again

Screwing some traffic

From the shaven insane.

With thumbs like a dragnet

She pulls like a train

And she looks like a magnet

And she comes like a warm rain

Please give me a lift man.

All Ireland.

(R. Harper)

Goodbye free Ireland

Try again soon

The tommies and sirens

Are wolves in the moon

Devouring your children

With the law's empty spoon;

They've no time for talking

Who are calling the tune

Your spirit is proven

There's no need to die

For nationalist slogan

Or Religious lie

They've both lived for too long

And they should be long gone

And there'll not be a new song

Until it's been done.

Little Lady.

(R. Harper)

I once held a lantern of love in my hands

She was all I could see

Kicking the brown leaves of childhoold around us

We danced the deep sea

That welled from the spring of the boy that I was

Held in her flame

Feeling her learning

Watching her burning

To see the first man I became

Little lady

Who made me

Was it you

Or is it that old unforgiveness

That I can't forget

I was her warchild and she was my wildcat

We lived in a dream

Woke up for summer unfolding the secret

And broke up downstream

Facing the current that said that we couldn't

Go on

Tearing the seed out

With sharp tongues

And no doubt

Before it was born

Little lady, etc

Sometimes I cry in the flood of my guts

Laughing in sadness

Bursting with rage in the wounds of revenge

Bleeding forgiveness

It isn't you love or anything new

I just tasted

It's myself

Standing watching me,

Getting hung up

Spaced and wasted

Little lady.

Bank of the Dead.

(R. Harper)

Lonely faces

Empty spaces

Hiding places

Nowhere to be

Growing skylines

Spreading street signs... Jesus freakers

All in straight lines... Strange believers

More every days... Too many speakers

All in the way

But it's all the same the world over

Twentieth century

Stuck in the red

In the bank of the dead

Holy Society

Insanity cities etc

Maybe you'll catch us

But you won't reach us

Trying to teach us

How to be good

With civilisation

By population

With moral castration

Taming the flood

Making sure of survivors

To keep money spiders

And moon rocket riders

Rolling in blood

And it's all the same the world over etc

South Africa.

(R. Harper)

Once I was anothers lover

Now I am my own

Trying to call myself a brother

Living here alone

Maybe if you came to see me

Wishing I wasn't so blind

Sitting here thinking to be free

Maybe we'd all change our mind

She is kind and beautiful

I am young and strong

We have never met each other

But it can't be long

Oft' I have slept by her window

Often I whisper her name

And wonder that words in the wind blow

Happy that hers are the same.

The Lord's Prayer.

(R. Harper)

There once was a man from the old stone age

And he used to follow the weather

But now he's got hung up on filling a page

Upon whether to go or together

And he's been around for so damn long

With his whooping and wailing

Crushing questions between right and wrong

And impaling

The best he can hope and the worst he can fear

On the solstices of an illusion

A massive erection of pushy defence

Up the whole of the prosecution

Great solace the wound, great relish the pain

To be losing the reins of a poem

To bleed from the tip of my tongue yet again

That part of my heart that is showing

These children conceived in the womb of this crash

To be the sponsors of nothing much more

Than rearguard directions of crossfingered sections

Of purpose pot - looking for nothing

But what is this last desperate vestige of heart over head

But another conjecture

No more the tomb of the martyred dead

Than the ghost of our parting gesture

And a hundred billion crystal balls

Represent a remarkable failure

To swell the song each moment long

At the counterpoint of nature

As four thumbs flick the tarot deck

And two tongues fork eight aces

Maybe sixteen fingers feel

The fool lives in two places

Where rosy lee can read this tea

And leave me living the story

A white dove with a hawk's head

And an open mind before me

To sail for a land where life is a high

Not a word to be heard or be spoken

But the soul-woven web of the endless touch

Of a child who could never be broken

Who sails a new world on the brink of the ebb

As the fish cats prowl in the harbour

And now soars high on the beckoning tide's long arm

To weigh his last anchor

And the sou'westers sing as the lifeboat bells ring

In the heads on the faces of changes

The heavens collage on Excalibur's edge

The star in his movie converges

With fate, in his task, and doom on his brow

And a ship in his eye in a bottle

Who speeds, to force, to want, to have,

To find, to further fortune,

Who comes from the north, south, west and east

Of the passions of a spirit

Witl all the flight of the wildest beast

To ever spur a stirrup.

Whose pulse is the master of action

Whose heart is an everlasting secret

Whose arms are desire

Whose lips are welcome

Whose eyes tell stories

Whose head is a journey

Whose hands unfold

Whose feet fly

Whose face is the stained glass window of a continuous orgasm.

Whose being is mine

Whose wounds are precious

Whose poem is a flower

Whose gentleness is the devil

Whose indentity is naked

Whose magic is a gift

Whose power is the transparent tapestry of history

Whose stamp is a freak

Whose wits are battles

Whose cousin is dog

Whose times are well fought for

Whose stoneage is clever

Whose poets know

Whose music is barbarian

Whose artists are helpless spherical mirrors spinning on the horns of a tidal

Wave

Whose information is belief

Whose complexes become religion

Whose foundation is spread

Whose word is god

Whose books are projectiles

Whose message is must

Whose excuse is holy

Who passed it down to me;

Whose enemies are landmarks

Whose fear is himself

Whose hope is lust

Whose wish is fresh

Whose position is wary

Whose mottoes are covers

Whose name is hidden

Whose nose is suspicious

Whose technology is a tangent

Whose strategy is dissent

Whose thoughts are games

Who shares his lot

Whose ace is death

Whose fingers invent

Whose tales weave

Whose knots are tied

Whose mouth is open

Whose ears pierce

Whose direction is out

Who is aware of disease

Who feels the need to cleanse his soul

Whose style is disguise

Whose dream is innate

Whose woman is soothing

Whose little children are the delicate blossom of an orchard of electricity

Whose spell is for conflict

Whose quest is strength

Whose war declared

Whose suicide is noticed

Whose shadow is cast

Whose vibes you feel

Whose pedigrees are haunted

Whose age is unknown

Who takes under his wing

Whose freaks are real

Whose reality is hunger

Whose words are jagged

Whose tears are shed

Whose sick hang

Whose weak are kicked

Whose cities are bad shelters

Whose sanctuary is an idea

Who sat round a fire

Whose teeth chew

Whose faith is change

Whose old age comes quickly

Whose youth burns

Whose systems are white sticks tapping walls

Whose prize possession is the planet;

Whose wildest lust is escalation

Whose cul-de-sacs are feelers

Whose main route is massive

Whose run is a dance

Whose vehicle is fantasy

Whose home is high

Whose role continues

Whose bearing is savage

Whose saints are dead

Whose sons bark

Whose daughters play

Whose strength is against

Who grows in the sun and sleeps in the moon

Who roams deserets, plateaux, mountains, forests and plains with vast armies

Who am I

The spirit of those who were not here

And never knew it

Who left this prayer to elope

A lover's journey through it

So children leave your windows open

Across the sea

Join our hands across the many lands

You and me

Never grown old

Seeing without ever being told

Something to say

Shut away

Blackboard so grey

Anyway

I'm dreaming

Out along the back row

Out the window

Cast away

Be free with me

Today

Great heart mean streak

Spare part speed freak

I set myself a problem when I built myself a wheel

I got myself another when I rode a horse to feel

The plains underneath my reins

As fast as running water

And the big lady I'm playing with

Has played a game of poker

With me and cat and this and that

Until she scored my joker

Now we ride in chariots

By the side of one another

Her soft side

My rough ride,

Nothing to fear

The unknown soldier's grave's already here

Is it too late

To create

A world made with care

Is it there

Or fleeting

Here today and gone

Tomorrow's child

Looking so wild and free

Are we a choice

With no voice

Can it be

Great heart, mean streak

Spare part speed freak.

Harvest Records - Promo.

Enlaces:

Discogs: https://www.discogs.com/es/master/view/53149

Wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lifemask