Somedays the big fish are so close
So close to shore, I could just scoop them with my hand.
But then I never want to stretch that far
Instead I stay restless, restless on dry land.
(Chorus) And if you could talk,
If you could talk to me
If you could talk to me you'd make no sense of what I'd say.
Because me I talk,
Oh yea me, I talkI talk
I talk in calendars
But live an endless day to day.
Somedays the cloud burst and I can't
I just can't remember what it was like before the rain
But then the tides they just recede
And I'm left here waiting, all this wreckage to explain
In my ideas - alive or inactive?
In the mirror - unpleasant or attractive?
In the future - alone or collective?
In this dilemma - oh I need a detective.
This is a very old lyric. What triggered it was a left-wing academic conference in London – I wasn’t involved but someone who was told me that an afternoon session needed a chairperson and wondered whether I’d do it (I didn’t, someone else had already been approached). On the panel were some of the main student generation figures of the late-60’s and I just thought how ironic it was that someone of my insignificance should suddenly be pitched in with these legendary figures.