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Music World  →  Lyrics  →  R  →  Rush  →  Albums  →  The Spirit Of Radio: Greatest Hits 1974-1987

Rush Album


The Spirit Of Radio: Greatest Hits 1974-1987 (2003)
2003
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I get up at seven, yeah,
and I go to work at nine.
I got no time for livin'.
Yes, I'm workin' all the time.

It seems to me
I could live my life
a lot better than I think I am.
I guess that's why they call me,
they call me the workin' man.

They call me the workin' man.
I guess that's what I am.

I get home at five o'clock,
and I take myself out a nice, cold beer.
Always seem to be wond'rin'
why there's nothin' goin' down here.

It seems to me
I could live my life
a lot better than I think I am.
I guess that's why they call me,
they call me the workin' man.

They call me the workin' man.
I guess that's what I am.

Well they call me the workin' man.

. . .



Airport scurry flurry faces
Parade of passers by
People going many places
With a smile or just a sigh
Waiting waiting pass the time
Another cigarette
Get in line - gate thirty-nine
The time is not here yet

Why try? I know why
The feeling inside me says it's time I was gone
Clear head, new life ahead
I want to be king now not just one more pawn

Fly by night, away from here
Change my life again
Fly by night goodbye my dear
My ship isn't coming and I just can't pretend

Moon rise, thoughtful eyes
Staring back at me from the window beside
No fright or hindsight
Leaving behind that empty feeling inside

Start a new chapter
Find what I'm after
It's changing every day
The change of a season
Is enough of a reason
To want to get away

Quiet and pensive
My thoughts apprehensive
The hours drift away
Leaving my homeland
Playing a lone hand

. . .



"I lie awake, staring out at the bleakness of Megadon. City and sky become one,
merging into a single plane, a vast sea of unbroken grey. The Twin Moons, just
two pale orbs as they trace their way across the steely sky. I used to think I
had a pretty good life here, just plugging into my machine for the day, then
watching Templevision or reading a Temple Paper in the evening.
"My friend Jon always said it was nicer here than under the atmospheric domes of
the Outer Planets. We have had peace since 2062, when the surviving planets were
banded together under the Red Star of the Solar Federation. The less fortunate
gave us a few new moons.
I believed what I was told. I thought it was a good life, I thought I was happy.
Then I found something that changed it all..."

Anonymous, 2112

I. Overture
"And the meek shall inherit the earth."

II. Temples of Syrinx
... "The massive grey walls of the Temples rise from the heart of every
Federation city. I have always been awed by them, to think that every single
facet of every life is regulated and directed from within! Our books, our music,
our work and play are all looked after by the benevolent wisdom of the
priests..."

We've taken care of everything
The words you hear the songs you sing
The pictures that give pleasure to your eyes.

It's one for all and all for one
We work together common sons
Never need to wonder how or why.

We are the Priests, of the Temples of Syrinx
Our great computers fill the hallowed halls.
We are the Priests, of the Temples of Syrinx
All the gifts of life are held within our walls.

Look around this world we made
Equality our stock in trade
Come and join the Brotherhood of Man
Oh what a nice contented world
Let the banners be unfurled
Hold the Red Star proudly high in hand.

We are the Priests, of the Temples of Syrinx
Our great computers fill the hallowed halls.
We are the Priests, of the Temples of Syrinx
All the gifts of life are held within our walls.


III. Discovery
... "Behind my beloved waterfall, in the little room that was hidden beneath the
cave, I found it. I brushed away the dust of the years, and picked it up,
holding it reverently in my hands. I had no idea what it might be, but it was
beautiful" ...
... "I learned to lay my fingers across the wires, and to turn the keys to make
them sound differently. As I struck the wires with my other hand, I produced my
first harmonious sounds, and soon my own music! How different it could be from
the music of the Temples! I can't wait to tell the priests about it! ..."

What can this strange device be?
When I touch it, it gives forth a sound
It's got wires that vibrate and give music
What can this thing be that I found?

See how it sings like a sad heart
And joyously screams out its pain
Sounds that build high like a mountain
Or notes that fall gently like rain.

I can't wait to share this new wonder
The people will all see its light
Let them all make their own music
The Priests praise my name on this night.

IV. Presentation
... "In the sudden silence as I finished playing, I looked up to a circle of
grim, expressionless faces. Father Brown rose to his feet, and his somnolent
voice echoed throughout the silent Temple Hall." ...
... "Instead of the grateful joy that I expected, they were words of quiet
rejection! Instead of praise, sullen dismissal. I watched in shock and horror as
Father Brown ground my precious instrument to splinters beneath his feet..."

I know it's most unusual
To come before you so
But I've found an ancient miracle
I thought that you should know

Listen to my music
And hear what it can do
There's something here as strong as life
I know that it will reach you.

Yes, we know it's nothing new
It's just a waste of time
We have no need for ancient ways
The world is doing fine

Another toy will help destroy
The elder race of man
Forget about your silly whim
It doesn't fit the plan.

I can't believe you're saying
These things just can't be true
Our world could use this beauty
Just think what we might do.

Listen to my music
And hear what it can do
There's something here as strong as life
I know that it will reach you.

Don't annoy us further
We have our work to do.
Just think about the average
What use have they for you?

Another toy will help destroy
The elder race of man
Forget about your silly whim
It doesn't fit the plan.

V. Oracle: The Dream
... "I guess it was a dream, but even now it all seems so vivid to me. Clearly
yet I see the beckoning hand of the oracle as he stood at the summit of the
staircase" ...
... "I see still the incredible beauty of the sculptured cities and the pure
spirit of man revealed in the lives and works of this world. I was overwhelmed
by both wonder and understanding as I saw a completely different way to life, a
way that had been crushed by the Federation long ago. I saw now how meaningless
life had become with the loss of all these things ..."

I wandered home though the silent streets
And fell into a fitful sleep
Escape to realms beyond the night
Dream can't you show me the light?

I stand atop a spiral stair
An oracle confronts me there
He leads me on light years away
Through astral nights, galactic days

I see the works of gifted hands
That grace this strange and wondrous land
I see the hand of man arise
With hungry mind and open eyes

They left the planet long ago
The elder race still learn and grow
Their power grows with purpose strong
To claim the home where they belong
Home, to tear the Temples down...
Home, to change..

VI. Soliloquy
... "I have not left this cave for days now, it has become my last refuge in my
total despair. I have only the music of the waterfall to comfort me now. I can
no longer live under the control of the Federation, but there is no other place
to go. My last hope is that with my death I may pass into the world of my dream,
and know peace at last."

The sleep is still in my eyes
The dream is still in my head
I heave a sigh and sadly smile
And lie a while in bed
I wish that it might come to pass
Not fade like all my dreams

Just think of what my life might be
In a world like I have seen
I don't think I can carry on
Carry on this cold and empty life
Oh...noo.

My spirits are low in the depths of despair
My lifeblood spills over..

VII. The Grand Finale
Attention all Planets of the Solar Federation
Attention all Planets of the Solar Federation
Attention all Planets of the Solar Federation
We have assumed control.
We have assumed control.

. . .



And the men who hold high places
Must be the ones to start
To mould a new reality
Closer to the Heart

The Blacksmith and the Artist
Reflect it in their art
Forge their creativity
Closer to the Heart

Philosophers and Ploughmen
Each must know his part
To sow a new mentality
Closer to the Heart

You can be the Captain
I will draw the Chart
Sailing into destiny

. . .



There is unrest in the forest
There is trouble with the trees
For the Maples want more sunlight
And the Oaks ignore their pleas

The trouble with the Maples
(And they're quite convinced the're right)
They say the Oaks are just too lofty
And they grab up all the light
But the Oaks can't help their feelings
If they like the way they're made
And they wonder why the Maples
Can't be happy in their shade?

There is trouble in the forest
And the creatures all have fled
As the Maples scream 'Oppression!'
And the Oaks, just shake their heads

So the Maples formed a Union
And demanded equal rights
'The Oaks are just too greedy
We will make them give us light'
Now there's no more Oak oppression
For they passed a noble law
And the trees are all kept equal
By hatchet,
Axe,

. . .



Begin the day
With a friendly voice,
A companion, unobtrusive
Plays the song that's so elusive
And the magic music makes your morning mood.

Off on your way
Hit the open road,
There is magic at your fingers
For the Spirit ever lingers,
Undemanding contact In your happy solitude.

Invisible airwaves
Crackle with life
Bright antennae bristle
With the energy
Emotional feedback
On timeless wavelength
Bearing a gift beyond price-
Almost free...

All this machinery
Making modern music
Can still be open-hearted
Not so coldly charted
It's really just a question
Of your honesty

One likes to believe
In the freedom of music,
But glittering prizes
And endless compromises
Shatter the illusion
Of integrity.

"For the words of the profits,
Are written on the studio wall,
Concert hall -
Echoes with the sounds...

. . .



There are those who think that life
Has nothing left to chance,
A host of holy horrors
To direct our aimless dance

A planet of playthings
We dance on the strings
Of powers we cannot perceive
"The stars aren't aligned -
Or the gods are malign"
Blame is better to give than receive.

You can choose a ready guide
In some celestial voice.
If you choose not to decide
You still have made a choice
You can choose from phantom fears
And kindness that can kill;
I will choose a path that's clear-
I will choose free will

There are those who think that
They were dealt a losing hand,
The cards were stacked against them-
They weren't born in Lotus-Land
All pre-ordained
A prisoner in chains
A victim of venomous fate
Kicked in the face
You can pray for a place
In heaven's unearthly estate

Each of us
A cell of awareness
Imperfect and incomplete
Genetic blends
With uncertain ends
On a fortune hunt

. . .



Living on a lighted stage
Approaches the unreal
For those who think and feel
In touch with some reality
Beyond the gilded cage.

Cast in this unlikely role,
Ill-equipped to act,
With insufficient tact,
One must put up barriers
To keep oneself intact.

Living in the Limelight,
The universal dream
For those who wish to seem.

Those who wish to be
Must put aside the alienation,
Get on with the fascination,
The real relation,
The underlying theme.

Living in a fisheye lens,
Caught in the camera eye.
I have no heart to lie,
I can't pretend a stranger
Is a long-awaited friend.

All the world's indeed a stage,
And we are merely players,
Performers and portrayers,
Each another's audience

. . .



A modern-day warrior
Mean mean stride,
Today's Tom Sawyer
Mean mean pride.

Though his mind is not for rent,
Don't put him down as arrogant.
His reserve, a quiet defense,
Riding out the day's events.
The river

What you say about his company
Is what you say about society.
-Catch the mist -Catch the myth
-Catch the mystery -Catch the drift.

The world is, the world is,
Love and life are deep,
Maybe as his skies are wide.

Today's Tom Sawyer,
He gets high on you,
And the space he invades
He gets by on you.
No, his mind is not for rent
To any god or government.
Always hopeful, yet discontent,
He knows changes aren't permanent,
But change is.

What you say about his company
Is what you say about society.
-Catch the witness -Catch the wit,
-Catch the spirit -Catch the spit.

The world is, the world is,
Love and life are deep,
Maybe as his eyes are wide.

Exit the warrior,
Today's Tom Sawyer,
He gets high on you,
And the energy you trade,

. . .



My uncle has a country place
That no one knows about.
He says it used to be a farm,
Before the Motor Law.
And on Sundays I elude the Eyes,
And hop the Turbine Freight
To far outside the Wire,
Where my white-haired uncle waits.

Jump to the ground
As the Turbo slows to cross the Borderline.
Run like the wind,
As excitement shivers up and down my spine.
Down in his barn,
My uncle preserved for me an old machine,
For fifty-odd years.
To keep it as new has been his dearest dream.

I strip away the old debris
That hides a shining car.
A brilliant red Barchetta
From a better, vanished time.
I fire up the willing engine,
Responding with a roar.
Tires spitting gravel,
I commit my weekly crime...

Wind-
In my hair-
Shifting and drifting-
Mechanical music-
Adrenalin surge...

Well-weathered leather,
Hot metal and oil,
The scented country air.
Sunlight on chrome,
The blur of the landscape,
Every nerve aware.

Suddenly ahead of me,
Across the mountainside,
A gleaming alloy air-car
Shoots towards me, two lanes wide.
I spin around with shrieking tires,
To run the deadly race,
Go screaming through the valley
As another joins the chase.

Drive like the wind,
Straining the limits of machine and man.
Laughing out loud
With fear and hope, I've got a desperate plan.
At the one-lane bridge
I leave the giants stranded at the riverside.

. . .



He's a rebel and a runner
He's a signal turning green
He's a restless young romantic
Wants to run the big machine

He's got a problem with his poisons
But you know he'll find a cure
He's cleaning up his systems
To keep his nature pure

Learning to match the beat of the Old World man
Learning to catch the heat of the Third World man

He's got to make his own mistakes
And learn to mend the mess he makes
He's old enough to know what's right
But young enough not to choose it
He's noble enough to win the world
But weak enough to lose it -

He's a New World man...

He's a radio receiver
Tuned to factories and farms
He's a writer and arranger
And a young boy bearing arms

He's got a problem with his power
With weapons on patrol
He's got to walk a fine line
And keep his self-control

Trying to save the day for the Old World man
Trying to pave the way for the Third World man

He's not concerned with yesterday
He knows constant change is here today
He's noble enough to know what's right
But weak enough not to choose it
He's wise enough to win the world
But fool enough to lose it -


. . .



Sprawling on the fringes of the city
In geometric order
An insulated border
In between the bright lights
And the far unlit unknown

Growing up it all seems so one-sided
Opinions all provided
The future pre-decided
Detached and subdivided
In the mass production zone

Nowhere is the dreamer
Or the misfit so alone

Subdivisions -
In the high school halls
In the shopping malls
Conform or be cast out
Subdivisions -
In the basement bars
In the backs of cars
Be cool or be cast out
Any escape might help to smooth
The unattractive truth
But the suburbs have no charms to soothe
The restless dreams of youth

Drawn like moths we drift into the city
The timeless old attraction
Cruising for the action
Lit up like a firefly
Just to feel the living night

Some will sell their dreams for small desires
Or lose the race to rats
Get caught in ticking traps
And start to dream of somewhere
To relax their restless flight

Somewhere out of a memory

. . .



An ill wind comes arising
Across the cities of the plain
There's no swimming in the heavy water-
No singing in the acid rain
Red alert
Red alert

It's so hard to stay together
Passing through revolving doors
We need someone to talk to
And someone to sweep the floors-
Incomplete
Incomplete

The world weighs on my shoulders
But what am I to do?
You sometimes drive me crazy-
But I worry about you

I know it makes no difference
To what you're going through
But I see the tip of the iceberg-
And I worry about you...

Cruising under your radar
Watching from satellites
Take a page from the red book-
Keep them in your sights
Red alert
Red alert

Left and rights of passage
Black and whites of youth
Who can face the knowledge
That the truth is not the truth?
Obsolete
Absolute

Absalom

. . .



Big money goes around the world
Big money underground
Big money got a mighty voice
Big money make no sound
Big money pull a million strings
Big money hold the prize
Big money weave a mighty web
Big money draw the flies

Sometimes pushing people around
Sometimes pulling out the rug
Sometimes pushing all the buttons
Sometimes pulling out the plug
It's the power and the glory
It's a war in paradise
It's a cinderella story
On a tumble of the dice

Big money goes around the world
Big money take a cruise
Big money leave a mighty wake
Big money leave a bruise
Big money make a million dreams
Big money spin big deals
Big money make a mighty head
Big money spin big wheels

Sometimes building ivory towers
Sometimes knocking castles down
Sometimes building you a stairway -
Lock you underground
It's that old-time religion
it's the kingdom they would rule
It's the fool on television
Getting paid to play the fool

Big money goes around the world
Big money give and take
Big money done a power of good
Big money make mistakes
Big money got a heavy hand
Big money take control
Big money got a mean streak

. . .



Tough times demand tough talk
demand tough hearts demand tough songs
demand-

We can rise and fall like empires
Flow in and out like the tide
Be vain and smart, humble and dumb
We can hit and miss like pride

We can circle around like hurricanes
Dance and dream like lovers
Attack the day like birds of prey
Or scavengers under cover

Look in-
To the eye of the storm
Look out-
For the force without form
Look around-
At the sight and the sound
Look in look out look around-

We can move with savage grace
To the rhythms of the night
Cool and remote like dancing girls
In the heat of the beat and the lights

We can wear the rose of romance
An air of joie de vivre
Too-tender hearts upon our sleeves
Or skin as thick as thieves'

rising falling at force ten
we twist the world and ride the wind

Look in- look the storm in the eye
Look out- to the sea and the sky
Look around- at the sight and the sound

. . .



I turn my back to the wind
To catch my breath,
Before I start off again.
Driven on,
Without a moment to spend
To pass an evening
With a drink and a friend

I let my skin get too thin
I'd like to pause,
No matter what I pretend
Like some pilgrim-
Who learns to transcend-
Learns to live
As if each step was the end

Time stand still-
I'm not looking back
But I want to look around me now
See more of the people
And the places that surround me now

Freeze this moment a little bit longer
Make each sensation a little bit stronger
Experience slips away...

I turn my face to the sun
Close my eyes.
Let my defences down-
All those wounds
That I can't get unwound

I let my past go too fast
No time to pause-
If I could slow it all down
Like some captain,
Whose ship runs aground-
I can wait until the tide comes around

Make each impression a little bit stronger
Freeze this motion a little bit longer
The innocence slips away...

Summer's going fast,
Nights growing colder
Children growing up-
Old friends growing older

. . .


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