sábado, janeiro 08, 2005

Bordeaux - Premiéres Impréssions



This Town

(They’re out there)



...Another end of day,

another year,

another town that I feed from

and use and chew and spit away...



Another environment of magic and illusion,

striped of vain purity

but ugly and dirty

and without passion...



Another slot in the dooms of nightmarish memories,

old ghosts that haunt the days into nights,

turn joy into sorrow and pain,

and the sun into black rain...



Another brave effort

to accept the way people choose to live,

like half-dead zombies

feeding their faces

with rotten corps of dogs,

Like rats crawling

in a Dantesque scenario of putrefaction,

Regret and sins

Torment their souls

and they die slowly

as the days go by

under the grey sky...



And as another Sun sets

between images and sound,

it all floats around

the dirty back-streets of this town...



I could have chosen to let go,

or not let them live like so...

"-There’s only so much

a man can be pushed into",

Said someone close to me

Something I couldn’t see

but little they knew,

that a line I hadn’t drew.



A line...

I leaped even further

Over the limits of patience

to find love turning to hate,

hate turned to violence,

the punches into blood

the blood turned to love,

Love is just the essence

Fuel for domestic violence

Fruit of rage in silence

and I leaped back again

to behind the line

and felt so fine

Knowing less than I knew before,

and still wanting to know more.



But that line has fade away

at the dawn of a new day...



...Yet today,

is just a common day,

for which I don’t have to pay,

or so they say...



They say

today the hunter,

I say

yesterday the prey,

and tomorrow

will be another day,

I’ll be on my way,

and I’ll try to do

what I haven’t done today,

because it’s just another day,

or so I say...



A day,

in this town

where the young blood

runs up and down

like a flood.



There are people everywhere

Like a virus or a plague

They just loiter around

Like a dog without a bone

Clichés on every street

On every corner a new verse

Like vultures in fine clothes

Scaring out the flying doves



They’re out there...



And I look at them,

pretend to love them,

and they reciprocate

with vacant empty smiles...



They seem attracted

to my void of indifference,

but their lack of spirit

knocks my senses out,

turns my resistance so low...



Yet...



I’m their favourite stranger,

incognito, mysteriously dark,

eaten by hate and anger

regrets returning from far

combustion without a spark

and this is just the start



They’re out there...



They pass me by, they do

I can see the faces of gluttony

Silent lips dribbling

Repugnant whitish foam

And pale gazing eyes

staring at glittering shop windows,



One could say

Hordes of necrophilic lesbians

Living a life of orgy

Looking for a cemetery somewhere...

One could say



Others live like insects.

They crawl to under metal rocks from hell,

And roll in a jam of murder,

It’s the horsepower of phallic pleasure

coffing monoxide poison

in my eyes...



Through the mazes of this town

Crimson lights of disrespect

And pushing on the side

The beggars by the traffic light

It’s their only source of pride



They’re out there...



...and I drag my dusty boots

through the cracks on the pavement,

where the piss of immoral drunk punks

makes little rivers

that run into blocked gutters everywhere.



And still

I walk amongst them,

at the slow pace of their loitering

with their dirty shirts

and their cheap mass production perfumes

Dead Swamp Flowers N.5

I can smell rotten onions

boiled in pools of grease

coming from their breath,

and the scent of dry semen on their hands,

that they scratch frantically

from each others genitals, wallets and hair...

Diseases passed on like viruses,

spreading in vain moments of carnal promiscuity,

an epidemic of ignorance

of silence and pain...



And now the pace of my steps

is faster and agitated

But I can’t run from these horrific thoughts

that torture my brain and consume my mind.

My body starts to twist in convolutions

And they keep crawling to nowhere,

ignoring my invisible agony,

like they do

to the beggars in misery,

the world starving refugees...



I’m running scared through these dark alleys

full of shades of terrifying monsters

and black magic steam,

that emanates from piles of shit

dumped here there and everywhere.

The reality is illusion

The illusion in my mind

I pretend to climb up the walls

Jump from puddles of smelly water

into the door steps of these infinite cells

where they make me live...



To surround myself of disgust

is maybe helping to bare

but my memory’s about to explode

It’s my cross, my overload

Ten years isn’t a lot to forget

Another ghost, another threat



And I’m so tired of walking

So much in need of sanctuary,

A hiding place

any street corner cave will do

For me to drag

my exhausted bones into

Somewhere full of smoke and old vomit stains

on a used to be scarlet carpet...

Some forgotten place

To hide my face

In dark a place

With pictures of dead stars on the walls

and a broken jukebox in a dark corner

screaming a scratched melody of echoes

hurting my bleeding ears...



I’m in here

But they’re out there

They’re all inside me

I can feel them in my mind

The sensory perception of the soul

That’s the weight of memory

What am I looking to find ?

What’s become my goal ?



Let me intoxicate myself now

Empty glasses of courage

to ease the sorrow

and kill the pain,

the alcohol fights the madness

and the illusion melts away...



Let me put to sleep, incommunicado

my misguided sense of bravado



I can’t see them not no more

But when will I forget?



I smell this room

The tastes and flavours

But I cannot feel the rain

Only the taste of pain

Time consumes me passing by

But not enough to die

Not enough to see the sky



Sitting in the corner of the bar

The world falls all over me

And I count star after star

But the sky I cannot see



Playing with a warm wet circle

And clutching another straw

Living vivid images

I’m becoming an outlaw

A Thousand nights of pleasure

Won’t do me good today

Having fun and playing games

That used to be my way



Another drink

A pint of courage

Bitter nightmares

Seas of foam

It’s happy hour

Drinking games

Ale on sale

My head in flames

Another round

And room to roam

Sound the bell

The last call

Drink up fast

Until you fall



My journey carries on

Through different Countries

Different towns and sea

And the same old state of mind

That’s where you’ll find

What’s left over of me



Distant memories

Early days

Different stories

Same old ways



I’m so tired of fighting

Of trying not to cry

And day by day by day by day

the years keep passing me by



They’re still out there

(make them go away)



My memories disturb my sleep

My mornings are dark days

I’m dragging a loose end

Fragments of other days



The sun is there to make me blind

Like the memories from the past

from the back of my old mind

from the earliest to the last



They’re still there

In the memory like a tool

Cut, copy, paste and stare

At the deletion of the fool



Another day

Another town

Same old story

round and round

another day

another battle

this pen is mightier than the sword

and revenge is just a word



Getting up would be too easy

Getting up and go away

But to stay or not to stay

it’s just too hard to say

I’ll have another pint of courage

and I’ll be on my way



But… ...They’re out there



it’s not over yet...

One day down, four years to go!





Fevrier 1998 -Bordeaux

Place de la Victoire

Café "Chez Auguste"

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