The Greatest Living Englishman Lyrics - Manafon - David Sylvian

Here we are then, here we are 

Notes from a suicide 

And he will never ever be 

The Greatest Living Englishman 

It's such a melancholy blue 

Or a grey of no significance 

Plastic coated surfaces 

A space to place his suitcase 

As it's passed from A to B 

But it's such a melancholy blue 

The curtains round the bed are drawn 

Broadcast voices from the ward 

The humming of machines hurt 

But there are distances between 

Yes there are distances between 

His aspirations visited him nightly 

And amounted to so little 

Too much self in his writing 

Now he will never, ever be 

The Greatest Living Englishman 

The engine shifts into second gear 

They're all aboard, accounted for 

It's a journey he must make alone 

The black sheep boy is leaving home 

It's been rehearsed a thousand times or more 

He's well prepared of that he's sure 

But still it's such a melancholy blue 

As he erased a page of history 

Much as he'd intended to 

He wouldn't speak or show you he was happy 

Though you'd meet him with your eyes 

There was a wall that always stood between you 

He'd shut himself outside 

And the love that he engendered 

Would never be enough 

For him to feel alive 

Warm and tender 

He'd shut himself outside 

Not a fake or a sham 

But dug in deep and fighting 

The world could not embrace a man 

With so much self in his writing 

And he was never gonna be 

The Greatest Living Englishman 

He had ideas above his station 

Minor virtues go unmentioned 

Little England you fit like a straight jacket 

Hemmed by the genius of others 

He said 

'To conquer the world is not to the trace 

Remove even the shadow of the memory of your face'