Over the Top - Hawkwind

This is a very heavy microphone stand

Ah, no queen could brandish this I tell ya that

It’s a real man’s microphone stand

Here, Dave, here

Where’d you get these stands from?

(Laughs)

Ah, they’re really heavy

So are you

Well, we’re gonna do something really heavy in a minute

Like, er

Fall off the stage on top of you

With about two hundredweight of iron in my hand

You’re a very tiny person, aren’t you?

Eh?

(Laughs)

You’re all very tiny down there

Y’know when I’m up here

I feel so big and mighty

I fell like I’m the

Master

Of the

Universe

You made me feel like that

And now, it’s almost true

And just wait and see

What we do with it

All right, cut the Gypsy music!

Band of Gypsies!

(Music changes)

All in a day’s work

All in, all in

All in a day’s work

All in, all in

All in a day’s work

I know

I would rather the fire-storms of atmospheres

Than this cruel descent from a thousand years of dream

Into the starkness of this capsule

Where two of our crew still lie

Suspended cool

In their tombs of sleep

The nagging choirs of memory

The tubes and wires worming from their flesh

To machinery

I would have to cut

Such midwifery is but one function

Of the leader here

Floating in a sac of fluid

Dark

A clear century of space away from Earth

One man stirs from the trauma of his birth

Attending to the hypno-tapes

Assuring him

This was reality

However grim

Oh, our journey’s end

The landing itself was nothing

We touched upon a shelf of rock

Selected by the auto-mind

And left the galaxy of dreams

Behind

And it’s all a fable for fountains now

It’s all a fable for fountains now!

It’s all a fable for fountains now!

And were your childhood dreams

All a fable?

For fountains now

For fountains now

Now, now

Now, now, now

Fountains, fountains

All going up in fountains, fountains

All a fable for fountains now

Go on

There’s no other

But just a minute now

When you gaze into my eyes

You’re looking at your own reflection

And all you see is your disguise

You wear for your own protection

So don’t go telling me that you know just when to stop!

When to stop

You know you go

Over the top

Over the top

It’s over the top

Hey I’m going, over the top

Over the top, oh!

Over the top, all right here it goes…

In 1916

We dug the trenches

But we don’t need them

We have our own defences

We don’t need no officers

To blow no whistle and scream

Come on you guys

Wake up out of your dream

And follow me

'cause I’m going

Over the top

Over the top

Follow me

Over the top

Here goes now…

Your country needs you

Hey Kitchener, don’t you know that moustaches went out with the Beatles?

Give me white feather!

Give me white feather!

Give me white feather!

Hung up on the wire

Give me white feather!

Give me white feather!

Give me white feather!

Hung upon the wire

Hung upon the wire

Strung on barbed wire

Huh, strung on barbed wire

Goodbye genocide…