(No More) The Sub Mariner - Peter Hammill

In my youth I played at trainsnow all steam is gone
In my dreams brief shelter from the rain
I try to catch the fireglow
With Dinky Toys I thought that I was Stirling
With cricket bat I say myself as Peter May
Now with all these images returning
I wonder who I am today
As a child I refought the war with plastic planes
And imagination
I was the saviour of the Nation
Oh To be the captain of a ship of war
The pilot of a Tempest or a York
To hold my trench against the Panzer Korps
Instead of simply being one who talks
And reminisces of his fantasies
As though life was nothing but to lose
These only antecede the knowledge that eventually
He must choose
That our options diminish
As our faculties for choice increase
Till we choose everything and nothing
Too late at the finish
In my youth I held beliefmy faith and thought were strong
Of the sight of right and wrong
Oh To be the son of Che Guevara
One unit in the serried ranks of black
A Papist or an Orangeman a eunuch
Then doubt would never cast the dagger in my back
Oh To be King John or Douglas Bader
Humphrey Bogart or Victor Mature
Which one is false and easy
Which one harder
Of this
Of me