| Disc 1 | ||||||
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| 1. |
| 1:57 | 
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Lead me from tortured dreams
Childhood themes of nights alone. Wipe away endless years, childhood tears as dry as stone. From seeds of confusion, illusions dark blossoms have grown. Even now in furrows of sorrow the dance still is sung. My life's course is guided decided by limits drawn on charts of my past ways and pathways since I was born. |
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| 2. |
| 4:17 |
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About a little man
If I can A gnome named Grimble Crumble And little gnomes stay in their homes Eating, sleeping, drinking their wine He wore a scarlet tunic A blue green hood It looked quite good He had a big adventure Amidst the grass Fresh air at last Wining, dining, biding his time And then one day Hooray Another way for gnomes to say Oooooooooomray Look at the sky Look at the river Isn't it good? Look at the sky Look at the river Isn't it good? Winding, finding places to go And then one day Hooray Another way for gnomes to say Oooooooooomray Ooooooooooooooomray |
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| 3. |
| 1:23 | 
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| 4. |
| 4:41 |
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I carry the dust of a journey
That cannot be shaken away It lives deep within me For I breathe it every day You and I are yesterdays answers The earth of the past come to flesh Eroded by times rivers To the shapes we now possess. Come share of my breath and my substance And mingle our streams and our times In bright infinite moments Our reasons are lost in our rhymes. |
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| 5. |
| 2:31 |
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| 6. |
| 4:14 |
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| 7. |
| 1:13 |
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| 8. |
| 4:09 |
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| 9. |
| 1:06 |
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| 10. |
| 6:35 |
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| 11. |
| 4:06 |
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| 12. |
| - |
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| Disc 2 : Live at Lyceum December 9th 1970 | ||||||
| 1. |
| - |
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| Disc 2 | ||||||
| 2. |
| - |
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| 3. |
| - |
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| 4. |
| - |
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| 5. |
| - |
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| 6. |
| - |
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| 7. |
| - |
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Just a step, cried the sad man,
Take a look down at the madman. Bearded kings on silver wings Fly beyond reason. From the flight of the seagull, Come the spread claws of the eagle Only fear breaks the silence, As we all kneel, pray for guidance. Tread the room, cross the abyss, Take a look down at the madness. On the streets of the city, Only spectres still have pity. Patient queues for the gallows, Sing the praises of the hallows. Our machines feed the furnace, If they take us, they will burn us. Will you still know who you are When you come to who you are? When the flames have their season Will you hold to your reason? Will you die with your chance? Can you still keep your balance? Can you wake from the nightmare? |
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| 8. |
| - |
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| 9. |
| - |
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