| Lifebeats | 
| Instrumental part | 
| Prelude | 
| Instrumental part | 
| The Silver Cord | 
| «Do you still see me even here?» | 
| (The silver cord lies on the ground.) | 
| «And so I’m dead», the young man said — over the hill (not a wish away) | 
| My friends (as one) all stand aligned, although their taxis came too late | 
| There was a rush along the Fulham Road | 
| There was a hush in the Passion Play | 
| Such a sense of glowing in the aftermath ripe with rich attainments | 
| All imagined sad misdeeds in disarray the sore thumb screams aloud | 
| Echoing out of the Passion Play | 
| All the old familiar choruses come crowding in a different key: | 
| Melodies decaying in sweet dissonance | 
| There was a rush along the Fulham Road | 
| Into the Ever-passion Play | 
| And who comes here to wish me well? | 
| A sweetly-scented angel fell | 
| She laid her head upon my disbelief | 
| And bathed me with her ever-smile | 
| And with a howl across the sand | 
| I go escorted by a band of gentlemen in leather bound | 
| NO-ONE (but someone to be found) | 
| Re-Assuring Tune | 
| Instrumental part | 
| Memory Bank | 
| All along the icy wastes there are faces smiling in the gloom | 
| Roll up roll down, Feeling unwound? | 
| Step into the viewing room | 
| The cameras were all around. | 
| We’ve got you taped; | 
| you’re in the play | 
| Here’s your I.D. | 
| (Ideal for identifying one and all.) | 
| Invest your life in the memory bank; | 
| ours the interest and we thank you | 
| The ice-cream lady wets her drawers, to see you in the passion play | 
| Take the prize for instant pleasure | 
| Captain of the cricket team | 
| Public speaking in all weathers | 
| A knighthood from a queen | 
| Best Friends | 
| All of your best friends' telephones never cooled from the heat of your hand | 
| There’s a line in a front-page story, 13 horses that also-ran | 
| Climb in your old umbrella | 
| Does it have a nasty tear in the dome? | 
| But the rain only gets in sometimes and the sun never leaves you alone | 
| Critique Oblique | 
| Lover of the black and white it’s your first night | 
| The Passion Play, goes all the way, spoils your insight | 
| Tell me how the baby’s made, how the lady’s laid | 
| Why the old dog howls in sadness | 
| And your little sister’s immaculate virginity wings away | 
| On the bony shoulders of a young horse named George | 
| Who stole surreptitiously into her geography revision | 
| (The examining body examined her body.) | 
| Actor of the low-high Q, let’s hear your view | 
| Peek at the lines upon your sleeves since your memory won’t do | 
| Tell me: how the baby’s graded, how the lady’s faded | 
| Why the old dogs howl with madness | 
| All of this and some of that’s the only way to skin the cat | 
| And now you’ve lost a skin or two, you’re for us and we for you | 
| The dressing room is right behind | 
| We’ve got you taped, you’re in the play | 
| How does it feel to be in the play? | 
| How does it feel to play the play? | 
| How does it feel to be the play? | 
| Man of passion rise again, we won’t cross you out: | 
| For we do love you like a son, of that there’s no doubt | 
| Tell us: is it you who are here for our good cheer? | 
| Or are we here for the glory, for the story, for the gory satisfaction | 
| Of telling you how absolutely awful you really are? | 
| There was a rush along the Fulham Road | 
| There was a hush in the Passion Play | 
| Forest Dance No.1 | 
| Instrumental part |