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Anatomy Of A Poet

by In The Nursery

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1.
Bombed 05:50
Walking through my mind Feeling time pass over Listening to the pain I comfort you You hurt me too Irrational despair Debases feelings I have nurtured Hoping for release That body thrill Poised for the kill And the game is set The night begins The fight begins and the players know the dice will win Begin again Together bombed
2.
Non sum qualis eram bonae sub regano Cynarae by Ernest Dowson (1867 - 1900) Last night, ah, yesternight, betwixt her lips and mine There fell thy shadow, Cynara! thy breath was shed Upon my soul between the kisses and the wine; And I was desolate and sick of an old passion, Yea, I was desolate and bowed my head: I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion. All night upon mine heart I felt her warm heart beat, Night-long within mine arms in love and asleep she lay; Surely the kisses of her bought red mouth were sweet; But I was desolate and sick of an old passion, When I awoke and found the dawn was gray: I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion. I have forgot much, Cynara! gone with the wind, Flung roses, roses riotously with the throng, Dancing, to put thy pale, lost lilies out of the mind; But I was desolate and sick of an old passion, Yea, all the time, because the dance was long: I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion. I cried for madder music and for stronger wine, But when the feast is finished and the lamps expire, Then falls thy shadow, Cynara! the night is thine; And I am desolate and sick of an old passion, Yea hungry for the lips of my desire: I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
3.
In Perpetuum 04:49
This is the tale of the child left behind Of a cheating killing kind there is no crime I claim the right to pity and to shame to reason and to gain There will be time The years from you to me For us the cherry bleeds This passionate debate The truth dictates our fate We search forever more We search forever more Oblivion confides The greater plan resides We stammer as we lead Dumfound, the final deed The distance and the night Transgress the morning light Discharge the guilt we feel Confessing what is real The years from you to me For us the cherry bleeds This passionate debate The truth dictates our fate We search forever more We search forever more
4.
Motive 03:37
We caught the tread of dancing feet, We loitered down the moonlit street, And stopped beneath the harlot's house. Inside, above the din and fray, We heard the loud musicians play The "Treues Liebes Herz" of Strauss. Like strange mechanical grotesques, Making fantastic arabesques, The shadows raced across the blind. We watched the ghostly dancers spin To sound of horn and violin, Like black leaves wheeling in the wind. Like wire-pulled automatons, Slim silhouetted skeletons Went sidling through the slow quadrille. They took each other by the hand, And danced a stately saraband; Their laughter echoed thin and shrill. Sometimes a clockwork puppet pressed A phantom lover to her breast, Sometimes they seemed to try to sing. Sometimes a horrible marionette Came out, and smoked its cigarette Upon the steps like a living thing. Then turning to my love, I said, "The dead are dancing with the dead, The dust is whirling with the dust." But she - she heard the violin, And left my side, and entered in: Love passed into the house of lust. Then suddenly the tune went false, The dancers wearied of the waltz, The shadows ceased to wheel and whirl. And down the long and silent street, The dawn, with silver-sandalled feet, Crept like a frightened girl. The Harlot's House by Oscar Wilde
5.
6.
Blue Lovers 05:47
7.
Paper Desert 05:11
8.
Byzantium 03:24
The unpurged images of day recedes; The Emperor's drunken soldiery are abed; Night resonance recedes, night-walkers' song After great cathedral gong; A starlit or a moonlit dome disdains All that man is, All mere complexities, The fury and the mire of human veins. Before me floats an image, man or shade, Shade more than man, more image than a shade; For Hades' bobbin bound in mummy-cloth May unwind the winding path; A mouth that has no moisture and no breath Breathless mouths may summon; I hail the superhuman; I call it death-in-life and life-in-death. Miracle, bird or golden handiwork, More miracle than bird or handiwork, Planted on the star-lit golden bough, Can like the cocks of Hades crow, Or, by the moon embittered, scorn aloud In glory of changeless metal Common bird or petal And all complexities of mire or blood. At midnight on the Emperor's pavement flit Flames that no faggot feeds, nor steel has lit, Nor storm disturbs, flames begotten of flame, Where blood-begotten spirits come And all complexities of fury leave, Dying into a dance, An agony of trance, An agony of flame that cannot singe a sleeve. Astraddle on the dolphin's mire and blood, Spirit after spirit! The smithies break the flood, The golden smithies of the Emperor! Marbles of the dancing floor Break bitter furies of complexity, Those images that yet Fresh images beget, That dolphin-torn, that gong-tormented sea. W. B. Yeats
9.
Anybody see a knight pass this way? I saw him playing chess with Death yesterday His crusade was a search - for God and their same It's been a long way to carry on Anybody hear of plague in this town? The town I've left behind was burned to the ground A young girl on a stake, her face framed in flames Cried "I'm not a witch - God knows my name" The knight he watched with fear - he needed to know He ran where he might feel Gods breath And in the misty church, he knelt to confess The face within the booth was Mr Death My life's a vain pursuit - of meaningless miles Why can't God touch me with a sign? "Perhaps there's no-one there" answered the booth And Death hid within his cloak and smiled This morning I played chess with Death said the Knight We played that he might grant me time My bishop and my knights will shatter his flanks And still I might feel God's heart in mine And through confessions grill - Death's laughter was heard The Knight cried "No, you've cheated me" But still I find a way - we'll meet once again And once again continue to play They met within the woods - the knight, his squire and friends And Death said "Now the game shall end&quit; The final move was made - the knight hung his head And said "You've won - I have nothing left to play" The minstrel filled with visions - sang to his love To look against the stormy sky The knight, his squire and friends - their hands held as one Silently danced towards the dawn His hourglass in his hands - his scythe by his side The master Death, he leads them on The rain will wash away - the tears from their faces And as the thunder cracked - they were gone
10.
PROLOGUE We who with songs beguile your pilgrimage And swear that Beauty lives though lilies die, We Poets of the proud old lineage Who sing to find your hearts, we know not why, What shall we tell you? Tales, marvellous tales Of ships and stars and isles where good men rest, Where nevermore the rose of sunset pales,And winds and shadows fall towards the West: And there the world's first huge white-bearded kings In dim glades sleeping, murmur in their sleep, And closer round their breasts the ivy clings, Cutting its pathway slow and red and deep. The Golden Journey to Samarkand by James Elroy Flecker
11.

credits

released October 1, 1994

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In The Nursery Sheffield, UK

In The Nursery is the Sheffield-based musical project centered around the nucleus of twin brothers Klive and Nigel Humberstone who have been producing music since 1981.
Their cinematic style blends electronics, classical arrangements, orchestral percussion and soundscapes evoking a timeless quality.
ITN’s music is licensed regularly for TV, film soundtracks and trailers.
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  • Sep 20
    London, UK

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