Mermaid
Verse 1
In the violet hour at the edge of the harbour,
where the lanterns bloom like pomegranates in rain,
I have drunk with thieves and princes,
I have slept beside the nameless,
I have laid my head on silk and stone
and risen up again.
I have heard the slow muezzin
and the bell from the chapel tower,
smelt the myrrh and orange blossom,
smelt the tar and fish and power,
and the sea kept breathing, breathing,
like a beast beyond the wall —
and somewhere in that breathing
was the promise of your call.
Pre-Chorus
So bind the sailor to the mastwood,
bind him with a lover’s knot,
bind him with the rope of reason —
it will hold him.
No, it will not.
Chorus
Mermaid, Mermaid,
rose of salt and starless foam,
pearl of the drowned moon,
calling the exile home.
Mermaid, Mermaid,
low in the blood, high in the bone,
sing, and the wise man trembles;
sing, and the heart is gone.
Mermaid, Mermaid,
nearer now, nearer now —
the sea is black silk opening.
The soul remembers how.
Verse 2
In the courts of old Alexandria
men spoke softly over wine,
of a queen with ink-dark tresses,
of a mouth like sacrament and sin,
of the reefs where ships went willing,
of the graves without a name,
of the song that entered through the ear
and set the dark aflame.
And the candles leaned and listened,
and the blue smoke climbed the beams,
and a girl from distant Shiraz
told her tale in amber streams:
“How they stopped their ears with wax, love,
how they prayed and howled and bowed,
yet still they heard her under hearing,
clearer than the gull or cloud.”
Pre-Chorus
So lash the sailor to the mastwood,
nail his shadow to the deck,
still his pulse will go before him
like a hound around your neck.
Chorus
Mermaid, Mermaid,
rose of salt and starless foam,
pearl of the drowned moon,
calling the exile home.
Mermaid, Mermaid,
low in the blood, high in the bone,
sing, and the wise man trembles;
sing, and the heart is gone.
Mermaid, Mermaid,
nearer now, nearer now —
the sea is black silk opening.
The soul remembers how.
Bridge
Bring the black wine.
Bring the gold cup.
Bring the fig and the cinnamon.
Bring the fire up.
Bring the oud-player half-hidden.
Bring the girl with the kohl-dark eyes.
Bring the old man one last wonder
before the last light dies.
For what is age but a slower fever?
What is wisdom but scarred desire?
What is a kingdom, what is a prayer,
to the tongue of the tidal fire?
There is still the flash of the shorter hemline,
there is still the purr of the polished machine,
still the cognac’s sun in the crystal,
still the last fight waiting unseen.
Verse 3
I was never made for caution,
for the neat and temperate room,
for the tidy death of appetite
beneath respectable perfume.
I was made for the long road shining,
for the engine’s velvet snarl,
for the wrist that slips from satin,
for the wound inside the pearl.
And you —
you with your hair full of midnight,
you with your throat of rain and glass,
you with your smile like a curved blade
drawn slow across the past —
you rise where the chart runs empty,
where the compass kneels and fails,
and all my old disgraces
flare like rubies in your scales.
Chorus
Mermaid, Mermaid,
rose of salt and starless foam,
pearl of the drowned moon,
calling the exile home.
Mermaid, Mermaid,
low in the blood, high in the bone,
sing, and the wise man trembles;
sing, and the heart is gone.
Mermaid, Mermaid,
nearer now, nearer now —
the sea is black silk opening.
The soul remembers how.
Outro
So bind me if you love me.
Bind me hard and bind me well.
Still I’ll lean toward the singing
like a saint leans into hell.
For the night is full of jasmine,
and the stars are strewn like vows,
and beyond the final harbour
I can hear you even now.
Mermaid, Mermaid,
take the mast, the map, the oar.
I was half in love with ending.
Now I ask for something more.
Mermaid, Mermaid,
with your dark and tidal brow,
sing me down, sing me under —
I am listening now.
