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Peter Hammill
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Fogwalking
Everything clumsy slow-motion, I look for the source. Buildings loom up like icebergs on collision course. I don't want to go in there, I just want to be alone, unpick the stitches of time in London in the no-go zone.
I've been kicking around like a dog, lost myself in the blank mass of fog, it's some kind of service. All humanity's fall-out is there, slumped in doorways and mouthing cold air - I have heard this.
Fogwalking, fogwalking.
Find more lyrics at ※ Mojim.com Since the curfew the streets are half-dead, all the good folk asleep in their beds, it's so easy to go off the rails when the fog spores are breeding inside by head.
Fogwalking: there's a presence that I sense Fogwalking: the neck muscles tense Fogwalking: it's right here inside me, try to find a defense - oh, no.
Fogwalking through the wreckage, fogwalking through the worm-eaten Night Apple, fogwalking through what used to be Whitechapel.
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