I`m singing because I`ve been left down in this cold submarine and can`t get out,

Because people keep hammering on the hull and calling the noise music,

Because they think that this stale stench they breathe is air.

I keep telling them it`s not so, but no one listens.

So I sing, because it`s only the singing makes them heed.

 

I`m singing because I was torn in half some time ago

And my other half has been taken away.

Ah! and it`s raw, raw, where that rent runs,

And there`s no way of hemming heals it.

But if I sing, then maybe they`ll just listen to the song,

And not notice I`m only half-here.

 

I`m singing because the ghoul Loneliness walks with me-

Mimics my every move.

Sits down when I sit down, rises when I rise,

Echoes my footsteps down the empty streets,

And each night in an isolated place attempts to strangle me.

I`m singing because singing keeps him at arm`s length.

 

I`m singing because Christ died for me once and singing`s a way of saying thanks.

Because, in his infinite mercy, he`s killed me,

With that death he kept talking about,

Dead…quite dead.

And I`m still only mid-way between seed and soil-break.

I`m singing because, Christ! It`s dark down here!

Because mother Mary, with all her usual vehemence of heart,

Has begged for me this one way of ease.

 

I`m singing because sometimes, when the spate slackens,

I get so happy at the kindnesses folk do,

At the way the summer sunshine glory lights

The young girl`s eyes, the old man`s silver hair,

White walls, and all the thousand things men make,

That the sheer gladness overstrains my heart

And only a song-burst sets it free

 

I sing, sometimes, just for the sake of the singing,

But mainly for the song`s sake.

 

I`m singing because…I`m a singer.