Hanging in the Gallery Strawbs
song written by Dave Cousins
I[D]s it the painte[G]r or the p[D]icture
[Em]Hanging in the galle[D]ry?
[Em]Admired by countless tho[D]usands
Who atte[Em]mpt to read the se[D]crets
Of his vis[G]ion of his ve[A]ry soul.
Is it the paint[G]er or the pi[D]cture
[Em]Hanging in the ga[D]llery?
Or [Em]is it but a st[D]ill life
Of his o[Em]wn interpretat[D]ion
Of the w[Em]ay that God had m[D]ade us
In the ima[G]ge o[A]f His e[D]ye?
Is it the scu[G]lptor or the s[D]culpture
[Em]standing in the ga[D]llery?
[Em]Touched by fleeting s[D]trangers
Who d[Em]esire to feel the st[D]rength of hands
That realis[G]ed a f[A]orm of life.
Is it the scul[G]ptor or the sc[D]ulpture
[Em]standing in the ga[D]llery?
Or [Em]is it but the te[D]nderness
With whi[Em]ch his hands were gu[D]ided
To dis[Em]card the une[D]ssentials
And reve[G]al the p[A]erfect t[D]ruth?
Is it the act[G]or or the dr[D]ama
[Em]Playing to the ga[D]llery?
[Em]Heard in every co[D]rner
Of the the[Em]atre of cr[D]uelty\par
That m[G]asks the humour [A]in his speech.
Is it the a[G]ctor or the d[D]rama
[Em]Playing to the gall[D]ery?
Or i[Em]s it but the ch[D]aracter
Of a[Em]ny single m[D]ember of the au[Em]dience
That f[D]orms the plot
Of e[G]ach and e[A]very p[D]lay?
Is it the si[G]nger or his li[D]keness
[Em]Hanging in the ga[D]llery?
[Em]Tongue black, still and sw[D]ollen,
His eyes s[Em]taring from their soc[D]kets,
He is si[G]lent now, will si[A]ng no more.
Is it the s[G]inger or his li[D]keness
[Em]Hanging in the g[D]allery?
Or i[Em]s it but his co[D]nscience,
Ins[Em]ecurity, and lon[D]eliness,
When d[Em]estiny bec[D]omes at last
The caus[G]e o[D]f h[A]is de[D]mise?
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