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the institute of mental health, burning - peter hammill lyrics

it was the first day of july;
no wind breathed in the sky
when a pin-striped suit
saw that the inst-tute of mental health was burning.
he stood upon the corner
where the sun was warmer…
looking across the street,
he moved the shackles on his feet
as the inst-tute was burning.
flames were roaring, singing like a thunderstorm;
smoke was pouring straight up to the sky;
windows smashing, gothic doors and lintels fall;
timbers crashing and we both know why.
n-body else came by to stare;
you see, they didn’t really care.
can’t call the fire brigade –
none of them had been paid
and so the inst-tute was burning.
throughout the city, people say it isn’t pretty,
everyone agrees, and everyone feels glad;
doctored brains celebrate and everyone waves their chains…
it’s a pity they’re all mad.
the inst-tute of mental health
spontaneously killed itself.
ashes to ashes
and dust to dust:
my chains began to rust
as the inst-tute was burning, burning, burning.
(chris judge smith

- peter hammill lyrics

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