What's It Worth? - Peter Hammill

What’s it worth to be safe?

What’s the way to be sane?

I can throw myself at the garden

On my hands

Prune the lawn and mow the roses

But I never understand

How to go

To be free;

In the end I only want to be me

Winter days here are mine;

Still, no bites… what's my line?

I could hurl myself to the bonfire

With all verve

Clear the path and weed the dead leaves

But I really just don’t have the nerve

To be part

Of that scene…

Is this just some kind of strange dream?

Think I’ll walk to the steeple, where the people

Are so inquisitive

I could make it to the corner store and buy

A hoard of derivatives

Now

Which way now… climb or coast?

Will my eggs ever poach?

I could throw myself in the frying pan

For my name;

Hit the road or smile hermetically

But it’s really never quite the same:

Every time a subtle twist

I think I’ll grab my plot

And simply exist

Or would that be

A subtle slash at my wrists?