J.H. Prynne - The Numbers lyrics

The whole thing it is the difficult matter: to shrink the confines down. To signals, so that I come back to this, we are small / in the rain, open or without it the light in de- light, as with pleasure amongst not merely the word, one amongst them; but the skin over the points, of the bone. That's where we have it & should diminish: I am no more, than custom, which is the vital & signal, again, as if we tie into so many voices. Wish for them: elect the principal, we must take aim. That now is the life, which is diffused, out of how we are too surrounded, unhopeful The politics, therefore, is for one man, a question of skin, that he ask of his national point no more, in this instance, than brevity. The rest follows: so long regardful of the rule, the decision as knowledge and above all, trust. All too easy it seems with this slip into trust if it weren't that silver is another brightness, & we know it. I must stand off from the warm decay, invoke some Danish insistence, it doesn't concern any of us, the risk of exception but we must each have, more than, the place defined by what we owe (in the weak sense, what we too warmly desire. Only watch the weather as the sky does change, or the seasons in quick-slip succession, see it, as walking is a white charge in the bones we look at, constantly. Or inconstantly, without even a shred of desire like maps at our feet. We want too much for the others. We must shrink / we are small within it, our pains are too earnest. And the plain is wide: we are so far, we should conserve by election, which means at least being less than so apt & so reasonable. Able with reason, the light isn't there, but down, in the mines, for silver. That's where the state is, where we should recognize the renewed fact: William Smith or suchlike could be the founder if we needed that. Which I suspect myself isn't so, as we have no need of the star uppermost in anyone's mind. We are alive, the esteem already is there in potential. It is a firm question, of election, the elect angels. Signs or array, we should take this, we should really do so. There is no other beginning on power Such is to elect terms, to be the ground for names. We should come to the other thing, the in- fluence of terminal systems, from there. In the air, but first, before that other thing in the air. One is each: and in succession/or by elect thus, there will be the new wandering star, in the heavens, the state of our own coherence. These are the ligatures to revise governance, of the local disposing, the quality as firstly position. Here is the elect, the folds of our intimate surface. They call it peace or history. Give it nothing; to them it is the elect, the principal, the voice.