Comfortable Songtext
von Peter Hammill

She likes to keep God out of church
Especially when she prays
All in its place, all safely stored
For some rogation day
The paradox is so apparent
The sense absurd but all too real
The nonsense is arid
But she just wants to feel comfortable

A pound in the collection box
Her name laid by the aisle
She always wears a hat
But he′ll appreciate the style
Pays no attention to the sermon
Christ in himself has no appeal
The social custom is the turn-on
And she just wants to feel comfortable


(She doesn't want to know)
Treading hard on her illusions
(She doesn′t want to hear)
"I will not walk upon my own"
(She doesn't want to see)
We stand among the creature comforts
(We're standing on the...)

But we′re standing on the stockpiles
The first stones
Yes, we stand on the brink of the ultra-fair
Assume it′s a proper place
To good living hour by hour
In the first-person singular case

On with the usual complacence
Wait for the mortal wound to heal
When the abyss is adjacent
What right have we got to feel comfortable?
On with the usual complacency
On with the customary zeal
She doesn't need to match a valency
She just wants to feel comfortable

It′s a blindness and a blessing
That the thought will not occur
That heaven, when it comes, might have
No special place for her


She'll never look at the enigma
She doesn′t want things quite that real
For that's some kind of stigma
What right has she got to feel comfortable?
What right has she got to feel comfortable?
What right has she got to feel comfortable?
What right has she got to feel...?
What right has she got to feel so...?

She doesn′t want to think about it
She doesn't want to talk about it
She doesn't want to look at it
It makes her feel uncomfortable