Flipside

London, summer '92: I think I've changed a lot, since then. Do you? Ideas that I'd held for years, Emotional baggage, hopes and fears Seen somehow in a different light: Not as wrong, but not as right as they seemed before. Was I different, then? Have I changed? Will I change again? I'm thinking of a mental free-fall, A partial total memory recall Like "what of the future, what of the past, what of the present will last?". Say I did forget and revert to the old days, forget this hurt. Am I better off or in reverse? Untaught by experience and, therefore, worse? I mean a lot, I mean a little. I mean a lot, I mean a little. I'm like a coastline, a beach and spit, Spurn Point and the rest of it: I'm the sea, the tide, the salt and foam. I'm the blasted land, the sand shifting, drifting out and back Then breached, drowned, defenses down, Rebuilt from this day on, or maybe not: Maybe my moment's gone. I mean a lot, I mean a little. I mean a lot, I mean a little. Am I the same person I seemed to be? Does all of this depress me? I won't listen. I won't talk. A weightless life. I moonwalk. I mean a lot, I mean a little. I'm supple, brittle, pig in the middle. There's resilience inside my face, but sometimes nothing. Deep space... What I feel and what I fear Is always here, my atmosphere. Pig in the middle. I mean a lot, I mean a little. I mean a lot, I mean a little.