Fleeting Spirits
The Lyrics
1. The Creation (Instrumental: Tesluk)
2. And Day Will Never Come Again (lyric: Andrews)
I draw the shade and all is gone
Along the way of spirits old.
I draw the sheet to take my rest
and hide beneath its satin fold.

And day will never come again.
I pray it never comes again.

The house is dusk, the walls at peace.
I sweep the musty smells around.
I make the moon a naked bulb.
My pulse becomes a godly sound.

3. My Friend (lyric: Tesluk)
4. White Horse Warrior (lyric: Andrews)
5. You Are Gone (lyric: Andrews)
6. Berlin '70 (lyric: Andrews)
7. I Am the Mirror (lyric: Andrews)
8. Silent Are the Oars Tonight (lyric: Andrews)
All content © Tesluk/Andrews Music 2010
[Last updated 16 March 2016]
You were here just a while ago,
But I looked the other way,
And you must have slipped away.

Now I'm lost and can't find my way,
And I wish that you could be my guide.

It seems like only yesterday,
That we'd romp and play,
How has time slipped away?

I stand alone in a cavern of stone,
And I'd like to have you by my side.

Minutes merge to hours.
Hours turn to days.
Days melt into years.
When the end will come is not clear.
The time we spend on Earth is dear.
That end will surely come, as feared.
We were friends to the end,
But the end came too soon,
With no further time to lend.

You're in my heart 'til the end of time,
With a love that I will never hide.
Where River Tawe and Swansea merry meet,
The infant bard of Wales was blessed born,
Where winter wore its white and frosted youth,
Which you recalled with language warmly worn.
The child you were embraced the world
Of words. Forever young you'd be;
A seer with life and loves unfurled
For all the learned world to see.
And "God of Waves" your name would be:
That Celtic god would set you free,

But also ever haunt you.

Where River Tâf and Laugharne merry meet,
You, the wordsmith, reigned with cock and quill
With beloved Caitlin at your feet,
And ever tried to bend her to your will.
Bawling, brawling, never calling,
Living, loving much, and more.
You toasted love upon the sawdust,
Drinking to your lecherous lore.
Your words like swords with jewels bedight
Did cut and shimmer through the night,

While you were drowning darkly.
Lovers all, like flakes of snow,
Each one different; each one cold,
But white and pure when molded all together.
Where Hudson and 11th merry meet,
You settled in, the nightly White Horse knight,
Bravely braced for grey November there,
Prepared to face the New York winter there.
Like the raconteur you were,
You, raucous, feted life and love;
Like the gentle man you were,
You let yourself be feted there,
And ultimately fated, where
You left your life, belated, there

To slumber, homeward bound.
And floating in the ink-stained
Tide pools of the Taw,
And through the Hotel Chelsea's
Battered hallways scarred,
In every smoke-filled publick house
The poet ever saw
And o'er the mouldering crosses
Of St. Martin's 'yard,
Throughout the Welsh-
And English-speaking world, and more,
Your spirit lingers where it lived
And loved and laughed before.
A spirit rages, waging still
As one in the eternal fight -
Rages still against the dying -
'Gainst the dying of the light.
"Rage, rage against the dying of the light..."
When the wind is in my face,
And the last train leaves the city,
When echoes are going to sleep,
Then I know that you are gone.

When the streets are empty by day
And windows stare in pity,
When the city seems larger than death,
Then I know that you are gone.

When the sky surrenders its light
And night remains forever,
When my bed is heavy with sighs,
Then I know that you are gone.

Your face has a midnight shadow,
But your neon smile shows the world
That you're worldly and wise.
And your grace is in Stalin's ashes,
And your dark canals echo still
With the enemy's cries.
So dance while your neighbor is sleeping,
And he sweats while you're wiping
The sleep from your eyes.
And he trains for a pound of prevention
While you laugh at the papers:
Political lies.
The past survives and truth divides
The very heart of you.
But pleasure thrives to fill the lives
That bind the two of you.
The past survives and truth divides
The very heart of you.
But pleasure thrives to fill the lives
That bind the two of you.
And the children play their war games
In the shadow of the wall,
And the sun beats down with pleasure
On the children as they fall.
Can no one hear them calling?
So dream of your Prussian splendors,
For they say that the dreamer
Inherits the skies.
Say a prayer for your Russian defenders.
Does your god hear the wind
Of their desperate sighs?
The past survives and truth divides
The very heart of you.
But pleasure thrives to fill the lives
That bind the two of you.

You beheld my figure there,
High upon a prancing steed,
Shining bright and white as snow.
You needed me to shine for you.
You conjured me from icy cold,
Like the virus in your veins.
You conjured me from fables old
Of conquest under icy rains.
I am a rider; make way for me.
I am the best of what's to be.
I am the mirror in which you see
Yourself as only you can see.
You beheld me prancing there,
Crimson as the twilight sky;
Crimson like the sword held high
To fend away your angry words.
You conjured words to cripple me,
Attacked with passion where you could.
You made of me the enemy
Of everything that stands for good.
You beheld me in the night;
Saw my blackness in the night;
Crushed my bleakness to your own;
Weakened me beneath your might.
We weighed our feelings in the dark
And spoke of love, as if to say
It was the drug with which to numb
The hungers which we feel today.
The ferry waits with breathless calm
To cut the ocean's crimson tide,
Reward those days of weariness
Within a shroud of ocean clouds.
Silent are the oars tonight;
The boat will float in peace tonight.

The ferryman stands motionless,
His faceless gaze a velvet mask.
He whistles low to the undertow,
And none will slow him in his task.
Silent are the oars tonight;
The boat will float in peace tonight.
Final mile fearing.
Sacred isle nearing.
Final mile fearing.
Blessed isle nearing.
And time flies on, and yet it dies,
And skies drip down where oceans reign.
And we search for that rocky wall
That calls like sirens in the night.
Silent are the oars tonight;
The boat will float in peace tonight…