THE BOY from THE BOY by John Greenwood

I The Idea of Space (Instrumental)

II A Brave New World
I don’t want to walk with my eyes set down in the dust
Put down roots in a future I no longer trust
Where they see the sky
I see a door
Where they want the status quo
I want so much more
They don’t believe in the landscapes I’ve seen
But in space, no-one can hear you dream

There’s a Brave New World
Out of reach but not for long
The life I had planned is not in this ‘promised’ land
It’s a Brave New World
Virgin soils and water clear
All that went to waste when we lost the human race

What did I learn when they taught me to stand?
I learned how to fall
I learned how to land
What did I learn when they taught me to read?
I learned how to think
I knew how to be me
That failure is fine as long as you try
And each time you get up, be nearer the sky

It’s your Brave New World
You didn’t think to ask if I
might have dreams of just where might be the future we’d share
I should have told you
how I planned to hold you forever
forever
I longed for the right time
to launch our new lifetime together
together

Here’s a Brave New World
I’ll go on first, you’ll join me there
There is nothing here but dust, toil and fear
It’ll be a Brave New World
You and I in pastures new
And children to raise in Elysian days
III Leaving
Five years of theory and ten years of pain
Repeat the same tired protocols over and over again
Lectures by day; at night, dormitory blues
Three sets of uniforms, one pair of shoes
And all the while I sense the thrill through the soles of my feet
Every vehicle lifting off reflected in my heartbeat
Two days ’til leaving
Two days ’til leaving

Sensory deprivation, centripetal force,
Twenty thousand programmes requiring discourse
Sleep interruption, repetitive drills,
Never-ending process makes the most of my hard-earned skills
Watching the clouds move, fearing the rain
Clock ticking slowly, time to go through things again
One day ’til leaving
One day ’til leaving

I’m finally reaching the edge of the sky,
Blackness in front of me and blueness behind,
Thrusting ahead now, immutable course,
Relying on signals of terrestrial source
The edge of the sky
The edge of the sky

IV Some Days
Some days I’m fine
Some days I need you here
Some days I can’t go on
Some days are bad
Some days I’m locked inside
Some days are just too long

And sometimes I wake from the warmth of a dream
where you’re sat by my side or I’m watching you play
As I open my eyes, reality dawns
In the cruel light of morning the dream slips away
Was I a bad mother? How do you judge?
Did I love you too little? Did I love you too much?

But you need to know we’re keeping a light in your window
In that same little room where I held you to my breast
And soothed all your worries, and tended your ills
And sang you to sleep when it came time to rest

I miss the noise
I miss the shouts and cries
I miss the games we played
I miss your smile
I miss your warm embrace
I miss the world we made


V The Broken Heart of the Great Machine
I wish I could share the view from my window
Deserts and cities, mountains and seas
From so high up here I can comprehend its majesty
But on the other side, a curtain of black
Even the gossamer web of starlight can’t disguise the cold inhumanity

A sickening lurch, a horrible crack
Red lights inside join the blue and the black
Like the devil’s eye lazily winking at my horrified face
No sound now but the warning horn
No engine thrum, or movement
And suddenly the earth fills all of space
Oh no!

VI Coming Home
I spent my life believing that home was not for me
So I stared into the night sky to find where I should be
And if I had cared to look at you
I might have been aware
Of the stars that sparkled in your eyes
And the sunshine in your hair
And I’d still be there

And if I’d have let you hold me the way you’d wanted to
Then I’d have known the universe just through my love for you
Oh Mum and Dad, I miss you
Though I never told you how
Now it’s too late to appreciate
Too late to say it now
But I’m coming Home

I find myself imagining three points beyond my sight
One sits upon a tractor, two hold each other tight
And now it’s getting warmer, I’m through the Kármán Line
And a shooting star above the farm is my way to say goodbye
Goodbye

• Rock
• progressive rock
• symphonic prog
• Adelaide