Arruaceiro Moderado

O frio mantém-se, invisivel, frio. Vejo bem o traço contínuo, piso-o, repetidamente, um risco calculado, um mal necessário e lembro-me das palavras de um homem mais velho "Uso a caneta que é a minha baioneta", cuspo as palavras como uma ejaculação verbal, infernal, terminal.



I am the assassin,

with tongue forged from eloquence

I am the assassin,

providing your nemesis

On the sacrificial altar to success, my friend

Unleash a stranger from a kiss, my friend

No incantations of remorse, my friend

Unsheathe the blade within the voice, my friend

(...)

Listen as the syllables of slaughter

cat with calm precision

Patterned frosty phrases rape your ears

and sow the ice incision



Apocalyptic alphabet casting spell

the creed of tempered diction

Adjectives of annihilation bury the point beyond redemption

Venomous verbs of ruthless candour plagiarise assassins fervour

A friend in need is a friend that bleeds

Let bitter silence infect the wound

You were a sentimental mercenary in a free fire zone

Parading a Hollywood conscience

You were a fashionable objector with a uniform fetish

Pavlovian slaver at the cash till ring of success

A non com observer - I assassin the collector - defector



So you resigned yourself to failure, my friend

And I emerged the chilling stranger, my friend

To eradicate the problem, my friend

Unsheathe the blade within the voice



I am the assassin

I am the assassin



And what do you call assassins who accuse assassins anyway, my friend?



Marillion