Fickle Sun The Hour Is Thin
Brian Eno Lyrics


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The hour is thin trafalgar Square is calm
Birds and cold black dark
The final famine of a wicked sun
And the web that died yesterday

I was a hard-copy version
I turned my eyes directly to hate
Then, the hammer of toil
Tired of what the world has yet brought
Forth, with the women waving at war
And the news that war is faith
Filled with tremendous cheering, leaping, and
Night rings ding, dang, and gongs
Who did not feel any purpose?

The phoenix broods, serene above the moment
You are fighting for, I wonder what, destiny

We waste away our hours and darken
Beneath the velvet of a strong optimism
Britain's most fateful hour is spun

Copy this point on a gong

Choirs, like bells, like a national truce
And the new sun
Where the air is something new
Men dream of a swell so high
Endeavor to get through the lies
And the bees to find
Something that historians can rake
Out of the drums
And all that color and savagery
Boom, the dark
And the web that died yesterday

The phoenix broods serene above
The tower of time, not enough boats
He admitted without shame that he
Had entered into the dreams
Of the named addressee in the velvet of war

Well lad, you've taken my heart away i
Shall miss the heart of the cold, black sea
Before ever there was writing
They were taking
Up stones to hurl at last stroke
But nobody looked back

There were soldiers, there was a cradle





The universe is required please
Notify the sun

Overall Meaning

The lyrics of "Fickle Sun (iii) I'm Set Free" by Brian Eno are full of evocative imagery and thought-provoking phrases. The song seems to touch upon themes of war, faith, optimism, and the passage of time.


The opening lines describe a calm Trafalgar Square, with birds and darkness prevailing. The mention of the "final famine of a wicked sun" suggests a sense of impending doom or the end of something significant. The line "And the web that died yesterday" could refer to the collapse of information or communication, perhaps symbolizing the loss of truth or the fading of reliable sources.


The following verses allude to a personal transformation or awakening. The singer, described as a "hard-copy version," turns their gaze towards hate, possibly indicating a realization of the negative aspects of the world. The "hammer of toil" suggests weariness or discontent with the current state of affairs. The reference to women waving at war could be a commentary on the active role of women in conflicts and the paradoxical nature of war being celebrated or glorified.


The arrival of a new sun brings hope and a sense of change. There is a desire to uncover the truth beneath the lies and for historians to uncover the significance of past events. The mention of the "dark and the web that died yesterday" could be emphasizing the need for clarity and transparency in a world filled with deception and manipulation.


The phoenix, a symbol of regeneration, is present throughout the song, brooding and watching over mankind's struggle for destiny and its place in time. The mention of Britain's "fateful hour" hints at the country's historical importance or turning point.


In summary, "Fickle Sun (iii) I'm Set Free" explores themes of war, hope, disillusionment, and the need for truth and clarity in a world filled with ambiguity and darkness.


Line by Line Meaning

The hour is thin trafalgar Square is calm
The time feels fragile, Trafalgar Square is peaceful


Birds and cold black dark
Birds flying in the freezing darkness


The final famine of a wicked sun
The severe scarcity caused by a malevolent sun


And the web that died yesterday
And the network that ceased to exist yesterday


I was a hard-copy version
I existed as a physical copy


I turned my eyes directly to hate
I focused my gaze on hatred


Then, the hammer of toil
Then, the relentless burden of labor


Tired of what the world has yet brought
Fatigued by what the world has yet presented


Forth, with the women waving at war
Furthermore, with women signaling involvement in war


And the news that war is faith
And the message that war is a belief


Filled with tremendous cheering, leaping, and
Overflowing with immense applause, jumping, and


Night rings ding, dang, and gongs
Night resounds with ringing, clanging, and gongs


Who did not feel any purpose?
Who felt no sense of meaning?


The phoenix broods, serene above the moment
The mythological bird broods calmly over this time


You are fighting for, I wonder what, destiny
What destiny are you battling for, I wonder?


We waste away our hours and darken
We squander our time and grow gloomy


Beneath the velvet of a strong optimism
Underneath the smoothness of unwavering hope


Britain's most fateful hour is spun
The most decisive hour for Britain is unfolding


Copy this point on a gong
Mark this point on a gong


Choirs, like bells, like a national truce
Choirs singing, resembling bells, like a nationwide peace agreement


And the new sun
And the fresh sunrise


Where the air is something new
Where the atmosphere holds something novel


Men dream of a swell so high
People envision an immense wave


Endeavor to get through the lies
Strive to navigate through the deception


And the bees to find
And the bees to discover


Something that historians can rake
Something that historians can uncover


Out of the drums
From amongst the drums


And all that color and savagery
And all the vividness and brutality


Boom, the dark
Suddenly, the darkness


And the web that died yesterday
And the network that ceased to exist yesterday


The phoenix broods serene above
The mythological bird broods calmly above


The tower of time, not enough boats
The tower of time, insufficient vessels


He admitted without shame that he
He openly confessed, unashamedly, that he


Had entered into the dreams
Had become a part of the dreams


Of the named addressee in the velvet of war
Of the specifically mentioned recipient in the context of war


Well lad, you've taken my heart away
Well, young man, you've captured my heart


Shall miss the heart of the cold, black sea
Will long for the essence of the frigid, dark sea


Before ever there was writing
Before writing even existed


They were taking
They were carrying


Up stones to hurl at last stroke
Gathering stones to throw in the final blow


But nobody looked back
But no one turned their gaze backward


There were soldiers, there was a cradle
There were soldiers, there was an infant's bed


The universe is required please
We need the presence of the universe


Notify the sun
Inform the sun




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