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Song-cycle containing 14 songs, intended to be heard in this order. 
They can of course also be understood as separate songs. (Please see other pages under Song Lyrics for quick links to individual songs.)
1. Prelude
Electric Guitar, blazing star,
How I’ve wondered who you are.
Could you rise up from the darkest night,
To lead a lost generation to the light?
You have no ego, no false pride, the cross where Ziggy was crucified.
Yet bewitching siren, for your screaming sound, some haunted sailors have run aground.
The god of rock music stands on high, demanding human sacrifice.
So pray that the man whose sweaty fingers run, along your fretboard to the sun,
With discipline like the warrior brave, will not follow Icarus to watery grave.
Electric guitar, bleeding star,
I always wanted to know who you are.
Could you rise up from the darkest night,
To lead a lost generation to the light?
Those men in black from behind their masks, they seek to prevent your heroic task.
Full of hatred and hypocrisy, they loathe your primitive energy.
They long to ban your wild sensuality, in the name of keeping our country free.
So I had to journey deep into my soul, to know why God so loves rock and roll.
Sacred rock and roll, your wine is so new, I almost failed to recognize you.
Powder pushers hunt in gangs, vampire groupies bear their fangs.
Willing victims cross the floor, the vampire groupies scream for more.
Electric guitar, guiding star,
Could I ever know truly who you are?
Will you rise up from the darkest night,
To lead a lost generation to the light?
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2. Life of the Earth
Teacher, Teacher, do you really know?
Teacher, Teacher, can you really see?
What are your secret thoughts about me?
Do you think that I would rape? Do you think that I would kill?
Why else do you seek to break my will?
Robotize me, lobotomize me.
Leave my body an empty shell, 
Cast my soul adrift in a soulless hell.
So who will teach us the life of the earth?
Who will teach us how to live and love?
To be a human being in this world.
Who will teach us how to find our way?
Your knives ever ready to emasculate,
As you prepare your totalitarian state.
Your only desire is to alienate.
Your secret purpose is to confiscate,
Our sacred birthright, our identity. A Machiavellian conspiracy.
You think that you are free, to play your evil game,
But the tables are turned, you are named and shamed.
So who will teach us the life of the earth? 
Who will teach us how to live and love?
To be a human being in this world.
Who will teach us how to find our way?
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3. Bad Karma
Every evil deed, since the world began, 
Was done by a human being,
Just like you and me brother, Just like you and me sister.
And if you believe, like I believe, That we have walked this earth before,
Then you might know how deep is the wound,
You might wonder what is the score.
Bad karma, tortuous maze winding through your head.
Bad karma, you can escape the spider but not the web.
Were you there when Ghengis Khan’ed?
Some are still held on remand.
Did you witness Hitler fail?
Some were tried, are now in jail, and some are only out on bail.
Did you see Alexander Greating,
Christian empires confiscating, populations decimating?
If you only knew, you might repent
Do you dare to call yourself innocent?
A million rapes, untold slaughter, looting, murder, war, and torture.
Bad karma, nightmare maze winding through your head.
Bad karma, you can escape while living, but not when dead.
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4. Mulholland Drive
Amnesia, she does not remember who she is. 
Amnesia, she cannot remember her name.
Amnesia, banged her head in a car crash,
Now she’s lost on a highway, not of her choosing,
And she falls asleep, She thinks it all will be OK if she falls asleep.
Amnesia, she cannot remember her name.
Amnesia, her plane has landed but her bags are gone.
Amnesia, her bags are gone, but not her baggage.
So welcome to Los Angeles. She is suffering from……
Pre-amnesia, she cannot remember who she will be.
Amnesia, she cannot remember her name.
The director does not direct; it’s no longer his film, he cannot choose his star.
But the producers do produce, and cowboys always seem to get their way.
Amnesia, mists are swirling, and a baby is born.
But when the hierophant screams, then the veil is torn.
There are shadows on the wall, The tapes keep turning, and the dancers keep swaying
There are shadows on the wall, The singer has died but the song is still playing.
You may be wondering what this film means, but do you ever wonder about the screen.
And if you are wondering what this song means, will you ever wonder about the dream?
Amnesia, have you remembered who you are?
Amnesia, can you remember who you will be?
And the people you’re hiding from, they know where you are.
And the people you’re hiding from, they know who you are.
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5. Animals Farmed
Down on Animal Farm, Napoleon is stirring, 
The pigs are preparing to take control.
Sheep are grazing, show no signs of life,
Waiting for the shearer and the butcher’s knife.
Kittens gorge on mothers’ milk, they overdose,
Then they go back to sleep, they are comatose.
Fledglings fight their brothers for their mother’s food.
They remain their mother’s beloved brood.
And alligators lie out in the sun all day,
Waking only to gobble up some passing strays.
The dogs are dancing to their masters’ tune.
In the midday sun they bay the moon.
Pouring out poison on a daily rote,
A poison with no known antidote.
So if ostriches bury their heads in concrete, 
They cannot see the land above their feet.
And when parrots parrot peacock poppycock,
The heavenly flock has a mental block.
Falling for hypnosis instead of gnosis,
Their houses are built on sand, not rock.
So the spoon-fed watch and the spoon-fed listen,
Like sea-lions performing for a circus man.
And the moths have not remarked that their light is the dark.
Can radar be so very wide of the mark?
Does a moth see a candle near a neon light?
Does a moth want the candle when the neon’s bright?
So when everything is said and done,
Would Ziggy want to take this one on?
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6. Cosmological Constant
Men in white coats from Africa, have never seen the snow,
They do not know, how could they know?
So they mock the travelling eskimo, when he tells them of his world.
They do not know, how could they know?
Theorizing ’bout things not there, deriding myths of polar bears,
They do not know, how could they know?
They tell him that the earth is flat, and rests upon a turtle’s back.
And how the sun goes round the earth, the centre of the universe.
That orbits must be circular, yet orbits are elliptical.
And the universe is determined, but the universe is free.
And God does not exist…………….
And God does not play dice, yet God plays dice and wins.
For mystical reasons, with unspoken assumptions,
Despite information, ignoring observation,
Resisting conclusions, inventing illusions,
Fiddling figures, with religious vigour.
Longing for order, longing for logic,
Confronted by mystery, running to theory,
Changing theory to satisfy desire.
They seek to repeat the unrepeatable, to predict the unpredictable,
When the wise just know, how do they know?
That the big bang is still just a theory
And that humans learn nothing from history.
And Scripture has declared that there is no snow.
They do not know….. How could they not know?
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7. Kali Yuga
There’s a woman I know, lives ‘neath an apple tree.
She deprives young people of their sexuality.
She tells them they’ll go blind, or even lose their minds
If they touch themselves in places where the pleasure is free.
Dark Mother, why do you hate your children so?
You think that you’re so holy, that you’re on God’s side.
But in the final reckoning, you’re the devil’s bride.
Her wicked sisters, the candle queens, decide what is, and what is not obscene.
But “In the beginning was the Deed”, leads to a very different creed.
Confusion over outer/inner, who the saint and who the sinner.
And who the ambiguous beginner.
Now if we take a little look, at the end of Stephen Hawking’s book
Is he just being an arrogant sod, when he says we might know the mind of God?
“Don’t worry son, it’s already known”, sing the dreaded God-squad, pompous drone.
“Don’t screw young girls, don’t screw your mother, you’d better not even screw your lover.
Studiously avoid all these black holes, it’s the surest way to save your soul.”
“And don’t use condoms”, adds the Pope. “Use the rhythm method, just wait and hope”.
Yet consenting adults do the strangest things, with oranges and bits of string.
And some catholic priests treat little boys, as if they were their little toys.
Caning, spanking, domination, the maids are French, the dogs Alsatian.
The parties are swinging, the sports are water,
I’m sure you wouldn’t let your daughter, take O and A levels in the kind of school
Where Madame Whiplash makes the rules.
Dark Mother, why do you hate your children so?
You think that you’re so holy, that you’re on God’s side.
But in the final reckoning, you’re the devil’s bride
The swamp swallows up unsuspecting souls.
No light emerges from black holes.
The spider queen rules, so wild cats prowl.
The pond is stagnant, and the stench is foul.
Mad dogs howl, and snakes are hissing.
Dragons roar, but St. George has gone missing.
Hercules tamed the wild mares.
Perseus conquered Medusa’s stare.
Jonah escaped the giant whale,
Could you also live to tell the tale?
In my heart of hearts I trust,
That God does not despise our lust.
Christians await the return of the Lord.
I await the coming of the three of swords.
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8. Prodigal
When you’ve been travelling for centuries,
And you know that you’re a million miles from home.
You sense that you have lost your way,
And there’s an aching in your heart,
For if truth be told you wish that you had stayed.
You hardly dare admit, what’s happening in your head,
For how could you remain upon this empty path you tread.
Yet every day is a good day to begin. 
Every day is the right one to take the first step,
On this twisting turning, aching yearning, Journey to your home.
There’s no need to be frightened by the distance.
The second step will follow on the first.
And if you can lose yourself in the journey,
You will sometimes forget your thirst.
When you’ve been travelling forever,
And you sometimes doubt you really have a home.
You’re certain that you’ve lost your way,
And there’s a screaming in your heart,
For if truth be told, you wish that you had stayed.
Do you think you can continue, forever playing this game?
So turn to face the one who loves you, and stand in deepest shame.
Yes every day is a good day to begin.
Every day is the right one to take the first step,
On this twisting turning, aching yearning, journey to your home.
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9. Royal Roads
When in life we’ve lost our way, 
And in dark forests aimless stray.
When we don’t know which way to turn,
And for some miraculous rescue yearn.
Like a beacon in the night,
Shines a radiant beckoning light.
From the darkness within rises up the dream,
To show us our way home.
When we cannot find our town,
And in our own self-pity drown.
When our throats are parched with thirst,
On this seemingly endless search.
Like an oasis on desert sand,
Like manna falling from God’s hand.
From the darkness within, rises up the dream,
To show us our way home.
When giant waves would break our boats, 
And for our lives there seems no hope.
When no lighthouse can be seen afar,
And clouds obscure the compass stars;
Like some friendly sea-god’s hand,
To guide our storm-tossed ships to land,
From the darkness within, rises up the dream,
To show us our way home.
From the darkness within, rises up the dream,
To show us our way home.
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10. Homage to Patric Walker
“Religion and Astrology are incompatible”
Said a man down the pub, rub-a-dub-dub.
“Astrology is bunk, just ask any scientist”,
Said the manic Christian woman on the radio, yo-ho-ho.
“Astrologers are charlatans, madmen rambling,
Cheapening the universe with pre-Copernican dabbling.
And a constellation has no more meaning,
Than a weird-shaped damp patch, on a bathroom ceiling.”
Said with such feeling,
By the self-proclaimed high-priest of Darwinian thought,
When perhaps he ought to know better.
“It is simply a mistake to imagine that the forces exerted by stars and planets at the moment of birth can in any way shape our futures.
Neither is it true that the positions of distant bodies make certain days or periods more favourable to particular kinds of action,
Or that the sign under which one was born determines one’s compatibility with other people”.
Said eighteen nobel-prizewinning scientists, but were they pissed?
“A manifesto denouncing newspaper astrology could as easily be signed by the leading astrologers, as by a group of scientists”.
So how did you do it? How did you know?
How did you do it? How did you know?
Instantaneous non-locality, is everyday quantum reality.
Action at a distance, psychic gravity, if three is one, and one is three.
Indivisible oneness, across the universe, interconnectedness, time reverse.
All things and all moments touch at every place, illusion of time, illusion of space.
If the reality of nature is duality, particle/wave, matter/energy,
Why not mind and matter meeting in the quantum sea?
Simultaneity, synchronicity.
If it’s good enough for Sting, then it’s good enough for me.
So why did the scarab beat its wings, like rain against the window-pane?
Responding to what arcane truths, did birds of death alight on roofs?
Why did the mother’s film come back, the reasons are neither white nor black.
It’s an interesting problem for our introspection,
Are the planets good hooks for our projections?
Do the god of war, and the goddess of love rule the heavens within, or the heavens above?
So how did you do it? How did you know?
How did you do it? How did you know?
Mapping light years of inner space, correspondences that leave no trace,
Revelation in shamanic trance, no separation at the level of the quantum dance,
Rituals performed beneath a full moon, particles dance but who writes the tune?
As above, so below, in a nature more weird than we can suppose.
What is the nature of the force? What is the nature of the source?
Are we no more, are we no less, than the dream of a greater consciousness?
Aspects, Horaries, Tee-squares, Trines,
Were cynics and sceptics all born under the same sign?
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11. The Way 
The Fool and the Magician went to sea in a beautiful sky-blue boat,
They had no honey, and even less money,
Which could not keep them afloat, oh no,
Which could not keep them afloat.
The Fool looked up to the Star above, And sang to an electric guitar,
‘O clever Magician, O outrageous Magus,
What a clever Magician you are, you are!
Do you think we can make it that far?
They met Isis, Demeter, Jehovah, the Pope,
But none of this wisdom could help them cope,
When they met Adam and Eve, who could scarcely believe
The trouble they’d caused, when they started to breathe.
Arjuna leaves home, is pulled apart for his pains,
“The senses are the horses and the mind the reins”.
This trained adolescent has shoulders of crescents
Our reinvented traveler becomes life’s unraveller
Does the lion eat the human or the human eat the lion?
You cannot find the answer in the Life of Brian.
According to Jesus only one can be blessed,
Will the human be able to pass the test? 
Gandalf, the Lord of the lamp, reveals, The hidden workings of the cosmic wheel.
He helped Oedipus defeat the jinx of the Sphinx,
For he was acquainted with Karma and Dharma
Has the wisdom of Solomon yet been attained?
Or are our intrepid heroes still trapped in their chains?
Ask Odin who hangs by one foot from a tree,
Love, Devotion, Surrender for company.
The Grim Reaper has a date with the Alchemist,
At the rainbow’s end, a lovers’ tryst.
Life’s wounds may soon be on the mend,
The ingredients are known, but what is the blend?
You may think that the Devil is not on the level,
His special divinity not part of the Trinity,
Can he truly be the shadow of God?
When in the darkest night, his name means the Light.
The Tower of Babel is becoming unstable 
Frightened people hang on as long as they’re able.
‘Till Isis unveiled, her truth has prevailed.
It’s still not too late, to the stars cast your fate.
The Fool and the Magician now write a tune,
To dance at the wedding of the Sun and the Moon. 
Called the Night Sea Journey, Dark Night of the Soul,
Their boat is sucked into a black hole,
Emerging only on Judgment Day,
When Gabriel says that their debt has been paid.
And the Lord of the Dance, asks whether they are prepared
To come out of their trance, and know the circle is squared.
Amen
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12. 6×3 = ?
Pension fund managers, do not like change. 
They make big investments, in the status quo. Planning the retirements, Of a lost generation, without ambition.
Of a lost generation, longing for oblivion.
Book of changes, book of changes,
How do you know the things you know?
Were there really people, Going through the same things,
In China, so many thousands of years ago?
When your contract’s signed and sealed, remember the lilies of the field.
If every day were Black Wednesday, the Chancellor might start to pray.
Politicians, do not like change. 
They have vested interests, in the status quo.
Raising expectations, keeping everything the same
Going round in cycles, in their private power games.
Book of changes, book of changes,
How do you know the things you know?
Were there really people, going through the same things
In China, so many thousands of years ago?
Did God mourn the passing of the dinosaurs?
Would God mourn the consequence of nuclear war?
Just what would Cassandra say, if she were alive today? 
Are we ready for God’s plan? Is this house built on rock or sand?
It is said that mothers, do not like change.
Their instincts guide them, to the status quo.
Goddess of plenty, guardian and wife,
Desperately defending, family life.
Book of changes, book of changes,
How do you know the things you know?
Were there really people, going through the same things
In China, so many thousands of years ago?
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13. Burgeoning
If they unleashed thoughts in my head,
So many more people would be dead. Bombings, kidnappings, executions, 
Anthrax plagues, chemical pollution.
Poison gases, fatal potions.
Arson, sabotage, vast explosions.
Tell me…. Where can I get bombs and mortars?
Where can I get instruments of torture?
When can I start, I just can’t wait.
I need to find ways to let out my hate.
But all my thoughts I must resist
For I am only…. a psychological…. terrorist.
Landed gentry, aristocrats. Vile industrialists, fat cats.
Military dictators, Tory politicians. Game-show hosts and crap musicians.
Line them up against a wall, my firing-squad will kill them all.
Corrupt officials, mercenaries. Fascist judges, reactionaries.
P.C. Plod in his oversize boots. Smarmy spin-doctors, men in grey suits.
These agents of Big Brother state, will feel the full force of my hate.
Paperazzi, tabloid journalists, the god-squad, Christian fundamentalists.
Wishy-washy democratic socialists,
Will all suffer the vengeance of my clenched fist.
So are you impressed by the length of my list?
But I am only…. a psychological… terrorist.
In my death-head bed-sit, painted black, my mind is only on one track.
I have no time for material palaver, I just worship my poster of Che Guevara.
Playing Sex Pistols records til 4 a.m. Plotting total political mayhem.
Smashing amplifiers is not good enough, I want to get out and strut my stuff.
Holding governments to ransom. Indulge my fantasies of Charles Manson.
Now you’ve heard my story, you may want to enlist,
But you cannot join, please do not insist,
From all violence I will desist,
For I am only…. psychologically….. a terrorist, a terrorist, a terrorist.
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14. Time for a New Paradigm
There is thunder in the air, 
And the limp leaves wait for rain.
Can you feel the pressure building?
Fingers in the dyke can only last so long.
Galileo is on trial; the Inquisition sharpens its knife.
Will he surrender to the pressure? Or will he fight for his life?
Their eyes are wide open, but they cannot see.
They have no theory of invisibility.
They cannot see, and do not know what they say.
What they see they conceal, they think it’s better that way.
There is thunder in the air. 
And the limp leaves wait for rain.
Can you feel the pressure building?
Fingers in the dyke can only last so long.
We think we cannot make the rain come.
Dare we wait for it to come in its own time?
We think they cannot change their minds,
That all we can do, is wait for them to die.
It isn’t rocket science, to state very clearly what you see.
It isn’t rocket science, to prefer what you see to your theories
It isn’t rocket science, it isn’t science at all.
It is the winners who rewrite history,
While scientists think they write reality.
The real history cannot die.
True science will emerge through all the lies.
There is thunder in the air, 
And fingers in the dyke can only last so long
There is thunder in the air.
What would it take to make the storm break?
What would it take to make the storm break?
What would it take to make the storm break?
Shall we at least set our lands in order?