Brian Eno is MORE DARK THAN SHARK

LYRICS - PANIC OF LOOKING

In The Future

In the future
In that far façade
On that horizon
Beyond the cars
Bleating servers
Beneath the stars
where city mist has risen.
To fall in shards
As something else
Beyond steel and glass
Beyond steel, and glass
when parades give way
Beyond stack and grey
To the solace of grass
The solace of grass.

Not A Story

My muon, atomity, jumping, charm
In a place in a place in a place in a place
My colour, my race, humanity, globe
My line map, my bank mat, my glow
My society, mores, my sex face, my poles
The tracks of my veins around a frame
my excretions, magnetics, kinetics and bundles
The energies, effigies, see through me's, alter e
Railway lines, ley lines, wave machines, waving trees
My philosophies, holy greens, canticles, holy greeds
My tentacles, tenterhooks, opiates, spectacles.
Excite me excite me excite me excite me.

Panic Of Looking

My muon, atomity, jumping, charm
In night and day
To frost and sun
Frost and sun
To smoke and fire
Smoke and fire
To single cell

Build and paint
To speed and weight
Speed and weight
To miniature freight

Flow and break
Jumps wireless, opaque
And men shake hands
on invisible games.

Faster and faster and further away
Down there, lives and land
Relics of past days
Sit in between shacks
Piped electric and gas
And the chattering clouds
Speculate charts
Hopping over aeroplane paths.

Down by a lake
The camera shakes
When he stops for the slow shot
A panic of looking at the what that we've got

If These Footsteps

If these footsteps were buried feelings
Feelpads
A bass drum bucking underneath the lowest bass
In a city of walkers they seem to make no sound
These heel-to-toe driven springs
But fade out somewhere at the mixing desk
Beneath the squeals and weasels
Overlaid by mind.
Alternatively mixed, london bridge
Her segment sheets
Paving would thump of feet
Bipedal skeletal, bone pulse shuffle
Shuffles when it dances
And dances when it walks
Footsteps as buried feelings
Watch how they dance.

West Bay

West Bay
A home without the memories
Where waves replace nostalgia
And welcome back the thinker
With every shift in shingle.
Imagine. Alone on this island
With only the stones
Their timpani
And shoots of thoughts
Just germinated, free to die
Or swim away to grey horizon.
Except you are not alone
Near a troop of watching seabirds
Resting in the day.