I. Car
Track 1. Moribund the Burgermeister
Car. Robin's egg blue, the windows rimmed with cold, unfeeling chrome. Tiny water droplets collected on the metal and glass, lending the machine a faux aura of grandiose. Somehow I knew that within each glittering pool there lay a microcosmic world of infinite possibility, myriads of miniscule universes hiding within our own. The car drew closer, riding along this narrow and obsolete country roadway near Bath, England. I could almost see the driver's face through the haze of tearlike droplets. His face was pale, his hair dark, and his eyes. they held me in a way I was not sure I liked. I almost considered withdrawing my thumb and continuing on my solitary way, but I did not. Perhaps it was the worst mistake I've ever made in my life, maybe it was the best thing I've ever done for myself. The car. It came closer, and for one painful moment I thought he'd pass my by. But the brakes ground the car to a halt across the slick pavement, and the window rolled down. "Where to?" the driver intoned in a quaint, shy manner, a worried expression playing about his angelic features. I noticed that the car was missing a side mirror, the jagged remnants of the chrome plated rod protruding like the spires of some silver castle that had long since faded into the mists of time gone by. I tore my eyes away and replied in my foreign American voice, "Anywhere but here." Noticing his gaze slide down to the unstrung bow resting in my hand. I gave what I hoped was a reassuring smile. "Don't worry," I said jokingly, "I haven't murdered anyone. Recently." This produced a weak laugh from the man, and I walked around the car and reached my hand out to grip the frigid handle of the passenger door. Thousands of tiny worlds screamed as my fingertips ruptured their thin atmospheres, the invisible film of surface tension that held them together. I slid myself in, tugging my bow, quiver, and small bag in after me. Fastening my seatbelt with a conspicuously audible click, I sighed gratefully for the warm, dry interior of the car. The driver twisted in his seat and held out his hand. "Moribund. Pleased to meet you," he said in his soft, cultured British voice. I reached out and took the procured hand, pressing my cold, wet palm against his soft, warm one. My sharp, gruff American voice rang out jarringly against his smooth, deep one. "Salmacis. The pleasure's all mine." I smiled, noticing in the rearview mirror that my lips had taken on a bluish tint from the cold. I released his hand and sat back. "I'll just go wherever you're headed," I added, shrugging and stretching. Through half lidded eyes I observed him. His face was sweet, his every expression punctuated with an undertone of nervousness. His hair was thick and dark, and no doubt very soft. His skin was fair, soft looking. He was clean-shaven, the smooth curves of his lips and chin obvious against the pitch black outside the window. His nose was very slightly hooked, but it was almost unnoticeable, and suited him anything. He had the typical British trademark, crooked teeth, but his were better than most and I thought it added a touch of adorable, childish imperfection to him. Otherwise he would have been dazzlingly flawless. His eyes were deep gray and framed by incredibly long, dark lashes. "I'm off to Bath. Paying a visit to Solsbury Hill." I smiled.
Moribund the Burgermeister
Caught the chaos in the market square
I don't know what, I don't know why, but something's wrong down there
The bodies twisting and turning in a thousand ways
The eyes all rolling round and round into a distant gaze
Ah, look at that crowd!
Some are jumping up in the air - say "We're drowning in a torrent of
blood!"
Others going down on their knees, seen a saviour coming out of the mud
Oh Mother! It's eating out my soul
Destroying law and order, I'm gonna lose control
What can I do to stop this plague, spread by sight alone
Just a glimpse and then a quiver, then they shiver to the bone
Ah, look at them go!
Bunderschaft, you going daft? Better seal off the castle grounds
"This is Moribund, the Burgermeister, I'm gonna keep this monster down,
Somebody sent the subversive element; going to chase it out of down."
No-one will tell what all this is about.
But I will find out. I will find out.
I will find out.
This thing's really outrageous, I tell you on the level
It's really so contagious must be the work of the devil
You better go now, pick up the pipers, tell them to play
Seems the music keeps them quiet, there is no other way.
Ah, close the doors!
"We've tried potions and waxen dolls, but none of us could find any cures,"
Mother please, is it just a disease, that has them breaking all my laws,
Check if you can disconnect the effect and I'll go after the cause
No-one will tell what this is all about
But I will find out. I will find out.
I will find out.
Mother, you know your son.
They'll be sorry.
I'll make sure that they're sorry.*
*Copyright Peter Gabriel
Car. Robin's egg blue, the windows rimmed with cold, unfeeling chrome. Tiny water droplets collected on the metal and glass, lending the machine a faux aura of grandiose. Somehow I knew that within each glittering pool there lay a microcosmic world of infinite possibility, myriads of miniscule universes hiding within our own. The car drew closer, riding along this narrow and obsolete country roadway near Bath, England. I could almost see the driver's face through the haze of tearlike droplets. His face was pale, his hair dark, and his eyes. they held me in a way I was not sure I liked. I almost considered withdrawing my thumb and continuing on my solitary way, but I did not. Perhaps it was the worst mistake I've ever made in my life, maybe it was the best thing I've ever done for myself. The car. It came closer, and for one painful moment I thought he'd pass my by. But the brakes ground the car to a halt across the slick pavement, and the window rolled down. "Where to?" the driver intoned in a quaint, shy manner, a worried expression playing about his angelic features. I noticed that the car was missing a side mirror, the jagged remnants of the chrome plated rod protruding like the spires of some silver castle that had long since faded into the mists of time gone by. I tore my eyes away and replied in my foreign American voice, "Anywhere but here." Noticing his gaze slide down to the unstrung bow resting in my hand. I gave what I hoped was a reassuring smile. "Don't worry," I said jokingly, "I haven't murdered anyone. Recently." This produced a weak laugh from the man, and I walked around the car and reached my hand out to grip the frigid handle of the passenger door. Thousands of tiny worlds screamed as my fingertips ruptured their thin atmospheres, the invisible film of surface tension that held them together. I slid myself in, tugging my bow, quiver, and small bag in after me. Fastening my seatbelt with a conspicuously audible click, I sighed gratefully for the warm, dry interior of the car. The driver twisted in his seat and held out his hand. "Moribund. Pleased to meet you," he said in his soft, cultured British voice. I reached out and took the procured hand, pressing my cold, wet palm against his soft, warm one. My sharp, gruff American voice rang out jarringly against his smooth, deep one. "Salmacis. The pleasure's all mine." I smiled, noticing in the rearview mirror that my lips had taken on a bluish tint from the cold. I released his hand and sat back. "I'll just go wherever you're headed," I added, shrugging and stretching. Through half lidded eyes I observed him. His face was sweet, his every expression punctuated with an undertone of nervousness. His hair was thick and dark, and no doubt very soft. His skin was fair, soft looking. He was clean-shaven, the smooth curves of his lips and chin obvious against the pitch black outside the window. His nose was very slightly hooked, but it was almost unnoticeable, and suited him anything. He had the typical British trademark, crooked teeth, but his were better than most and I thought it added a touch of adorable, childish imperfection to him. Otherwise he would have been dazzlingly flawless. His eyes were deep gray and framed by incredibly long, dark lashes. "I'm off to Bath. Paying a visit to Solsbury Hill." I smiled.
Moribund the Burgermeister
Caught the chaos in the market square
I don't know what, I don't know why, but something's wrong down there
The bodies twisting and turning in a thousand ways
The eyes all rolling round and round into a distant gaze
Ah, look at that crowd!
Some are jumping up in the air - say "We're drowning in a torrent of
blood!"
Others going down on their knees, seen a saviour coming out of the mud
Oh Mother! It's eating out my soul
Destroying law and order, I'm gonna lose control
What can I do to stop this plague, spread by sight alone
Just a glimpse and then a quiver, then they shiver to the bone
Ah, look at them go!
Bunderschaft, you going daft? Better seal off the castle grounds
"This is Moribund, the Burgermeister, I'm gonna keep this monster down,
Somebody sent the subversive element; going to chase it out of down."
No-one will tell what all this is about.
But I will find out. I will find out.
I will find out.
This thing's really outrageous, I tell you on the level
It's really so contagious must be the work of the devil
You better go now, pick up the pipers, tell them to play
Seems the music keeps them quiet, there is no other way.
Ah, close the doors!
"We've tried potions and waxen dolls, but none of us could find any cures,"
Mother please, is it just a disease, that has them breaking all my laws,
Check if you can disconnect the effect and I'll go after the cause
No-one will tell what this is all about
But I will find out. I will find out.
I will find out.
Mother, you know your son.
They'll be sorry.
I'll make sure that they're sorry.*
*Copyright Peter Gabriel