| Song | Come Clean |
| Artist | Peter Hammill |
| Album | X my Heart |
| There's no getting back to how it started | |
| and the next few pages are uncharted, | |
| there's no secret passage, no speedy getaway – | |
| what do you say now? | |
| We could talk about this in a calmer state | |
| but if we wait it won't get any easier. | |
| So we're damned if we do and damned if we don't, | |
| we can't deny what each action means: | |
| come clean. | |
| Everything you've done is carried with you | |
| and no-one's ever going to forgive you | |
| if you won't come to terms with where and who you've been: | |
| look at the screen now. | |
| Stir up the ghosts of your own forgetfulness, | |
| don't pack up your troubles in the sleeping bag. | |
| Don't ignore what you saw but believe how it seems, | |
| you can try to make a brand new start. | |
| We can only do our best, with an open heart | |
| come clean, | |
| wipe the slate clean, | |
| come clean. | |
| The slate's clean but there's something that you never forget, | |
| though it's hidden in your most secret place | |
| it's still written in the memories that you've buried – worse yet | |
| it's restructured in the lines of your face... come clean. | |
| No spooling on to how it's ending | |
| and the next few pages are mindbending: | |
| the territory's minefield and the needle's in the red. | |
| Let's put it to bed now, | |
| cook up a cover story for our given lots, | |
| be do or damned, stand by the forget-me-not. | |
| there'll be no blame for the stain that a lived-in life leaves, | |
| no shame in what might have been. | |
| We can only do our best but our lives'll never be pristine – | |
| come clean, the slate's clean, come clean. | |
| Maybe what I mean's this is as clean as it ever gets... |
| There' s no getting back to how it started | |
| and the next few pages are uncharted, | |
| there' s no secret passage, no speedy getaway | |
| what do you say now? | |
| We could talk about this in a calmer state | |
| but if we wait it won' t get any easier. | |
| So we' re damned if we do and damned if we don' t, | |
| we can' t deny what each action means: | |
| come clean. | |
| Everything you' ve done is carried with you | |
| and noone' s ever going to forgive you | |
| if you won' t come to terms with where and who you' ve been: | |
| look at the screen now. | |
| Stir up the ghosts of your own forgetfulness, | |
| don' t pack up your troubles in the sleeping bag. | |
| Don' t ignore what you saw but believe how it seems, | |
| you can try to make a brand new start. | |
| We can only do our best, with an open heart | |
| come clean, | |
| wipe the slate clean, | |
| come clean. | |
| The slate' s clean but there' s something that you never forget, | |
| though it' s hidden in your most secret place | |
| it' s still written in the memories that you' ve buried worse yet | |
| it' s restructured in the lines of your face... come clean. | |
| No spooling on to how it' s ending | |
| and the next few pages are mindbending: | |
| the territory' s minefield and the needle' s in the red. | |
| Let' s put it to bed now, | |
| cook up a cover story for our given lots, | |
| be do or damned, stand by the forgetmenot. | |
| there' ll be no blame for the stain that a livedin life leaves, | |
| no shame in what might have been. | |
| We can only do our best but our lives' ll never be pristine | |
| come clean, the slate' s clean, come clean. | |
| Maybe what I mean' s this is as clean as it ever gets... |