Out with the moonlight, one clearly sees
A carrot and a thread, in the rod, as a fish.
The thinker, the saviour, the silly, on the run,
Parading as shadows painted by the same sun.
A donkey, an elephant, a knife and a rose,
Tatooed arm, a ring in the nose.
A strange adequation to life and its forms,
Decided convictions about heaven and gold.
Denying origins, like ostrichs, closed eyes,
To avoid the dissapointment of not being divine.
Eternal confusion is easily cured
Rennouncing to knowledge, embracing a god.
Streets claming for freedom, to have asomething fixed,
Like theories assuming that eternity exists,
They all in the same bag, the sack of the ensureds,
Clampdowns abolished or sins called love.
You shake your minds with the will to know,
With a supposed ideal you remember in fog,
And time passes flying and looking for the tricks,
Magic is a job, like a surprise someone repeats.
Recurrent attempts to definetly understand
The magnitude of the canvas being a stain,
Another painted character, inmersed in the work,
Fragile old idol conceiling he is lost.
Lovely is your weakness, lovely your sick,
The way you get up, your kindness, your greed,
The great composition, the first masterpiece,
The beautiful lie of the shyest artist.
Bread for the children, salt in the sea,
Air in the air, corn in the fields,
Trees in the forest, music in the dance,
Tears on the graves, manhood at a glance.
I’ve been dreaming someone else’s dreams,
Sailing quiet streams, living far from home.
I thought the Book was going to be a guide,
I confused my pride with a way to be.
Dusty throne of a lonely king
Until I saw the row, that I was a link.
A grey day I asked to myself why
Justify my life with another life.
Share my time, divide my wealth,
Be together in sickness and in health.
Life’s itself small enough in fact
to be looking for a homemade short cut.
Manhood is a very old and long snake,
That learns by trial and mistake.
There’s no teacher, and no golden rule,
If you look for clothes you get nude.
I have seen it with my eyes:
Life is just a beautiful lie.
And the dreams I thought another dreamt
Are mine, are a membership fee.
We come forward and we walk by pairs
We look for boredom to avoid despair.
Blinded eyes by our own hands,
Across the fire we found a path.
Follow me I’m yearning to return
Reduce my targets, surrender my arms.
Meet me at the circus,on the queue
Bring the children, I’ll pretend it’s new.
Take my hand, I assimilate the things,
And I adopt as mine this dreams.
Do you want to play, again,
With the time machine, again?
Pull the lever with the rope,
We’ll turn on the Confusion Mode.
Do you want to fall again,
As if possible, again?
Dress rehearsal of past spring,
Homemade wristlet and cheap ring.
Don’t give up your favourite game.
See: frost upon the blossoms
Is melting with the rain.
Are you ready to pretend
That around us all is new,
That we live in wonderland,
That our tears are made of dew?
Could you press the yellow switch?
So, the fiegning will start,
Leave your body and your mind
Overflowing in the dark.
Don’t you see the ones we were?
Fire burnt us, now we’re frozen
So get closer to the flame.
Would you like to find your steps
In the seashore, after years?
All the children, all the waves
Have not rubbed ‘em, have no fears.
Do you want to start again,
And not to wait for the next round?
Recover your trust and following,
Throw your clothes to the wind.
And close your eyes to see the blue sky.
We were lovers like no others,
That’s what don’t let us say goodbye.
Beauty is loftiness, beauty is justice, beauty is shiny at night.
Beauty is different, but not always distinguishable, and beauty is big and small.
It could be hard to recognize it if you’re lucky and once it looks for you.
Beauty has been many times refused and edged out,
But it’s as stubborn as a mule.
Beauty is a light that scapes from space-time, beauty knows no rule.
Beauty is recondite, it remembers what you did, beauty is crowd and solitude.
Scientists’ve tried to detect it many times with a lot of cure
But every mesure’s nule, and the conclusion’s this:
Beauty hides if you look for it.
Beauty is poetry, very long sum ups, beauty is a whim,
Further than human, nothing to do with jewels, involved in eternity.
Sometimes it’s disguised as a well-known thing, as a next routine,
But our five senses are primitive,
Beauty, in fact, is not a need.
Beauty is feeling, beauty is homesickness, beauty is sense of loss,
Beauty is death, beauty is the path we live looking for.
The night was so nice,
The moon in her eyes,
She drank and she broke the cup.
She asked me to dance,
Her mouth in my ear,
She whispered, she called me my dear.
Those were the times
When ev’rything’s new
And we think it’s what we expect.
We love to be wrong,
We find to forget.
We get used to all,
Specially to love,
And no enemy is worst.
So, then, what’s a need?
Is it something good?
A need can’t be something new.
So I won’t despair
If failure goes on
If life exists to fail,
We should consider
It as our fate.
She told me to stop,
She gathered her clothes,
She said that it was the end.
And she wasn’t cold,
But all the fish had been sold,
And there was nothing there.
We kissed us goodbye,
Over me she cried,
And silently crossed the floor,
I didn’t understand it,
I stood and I grew old.
She said she’d miss me,
but she closed the door.
Infinite drunkness, all day long nights,
No difference between “tues-” and “sun-”.
Thoughts of eternity, neverending deep pool,
Obstinated as the bravest fool,
I was so handy, so subtly influenced,
I was the beggar and the king,
The thread in the loom, the clever spoon,
The private eye and the thief.
By the way that I looked, I could have been intruded
In drugs or in mafia at any level.
In times I was sure, in times insecure,
And I changed from submissed to rebel.
Drinking was easy, it looked just like sleeping,
It looked just like a second life,
A chance to create, Alexander the Great,
In a jigsaw puzzle of streets.
I thought I was so strong that when something was wrong
I could have amended it fastly,
I felt able to jump, I felt able to leave,
And as free as a feather or a leaf.
Curling false horses, delighting with visions,
When any door was a choice,
When I disspeared as soon as I appeared,
When there was nobody to calm.
Sometimes, arriving home, with cheap pastries I tought
‘bout people I could have recently offended.
But I knew it’s not hate, it looks more like a fake,
They forgave as today I’m forgiving.
Dressed I slept, and I woke up confused,
I didn’t know ‘bout my car,
In times there was someone beside me in the bed,
I pray for it not to be a man.
Now I look after all, faraway days, youth boasts
And I knew those things weren’t mistakes,
There’s a time for ev’rything, and the truth is not one,
Our needs go changing with us.
Making up your face you beautify your skin,
You have bought the skirt that made you look like thin,
You have found the eyeliner you looked for,
You ‘ve bedded down the children, your hair is done.
He comes from the work and he gets home late,
If he looks at you, it’s never at your face
You halfsee his falseness, and you say no,no,
It can’t happen to me…
You try to reach his hand,
It makes you feel so sure,
You see the wrinkles
and the ring,
It all belongs to you,
You feel it as a right,
As a never written rule.
He can make you love, he can say a praise,
Lie that you’re the one,and wrap you in his haze,
He will make you believe that you are his sun,
But he waits for the pretty one.
He thinks it’s unjust, he thinks it’s unfair,
He lives the both faces of his dark affair,
He feels like a victim and like a rat,
In each of his acts
He wants to scape from you,
He wants to live with her,
It’s like a second chance,
Like to be young again,
Like to be free again,
Like enjoy with love again,
And you don’t lose heart, you keep a bit of pride,
Though you know the lies that you live beside,
Lately you’ve decided he may stay or go,
But…Does it matter?
If God exists perhaps he’s bad, perhaps he’s shy, perhaps afraid.
We’ve always thought he’s very strong and he decides over ev’ry soul.
Maybe God’s still too young,
Maybe he’s a little child,
We’re always comparing him with us,
Why do we do that?
If God exists, he lives in mists,
In distant places far from his breed.
If God exists perhaps he’s twisted, he has a plot, perhaps not,
Perhaps he left Beethoven deaf just because he had a bet,
Maybe God is a gambler,
Or maybe he’s a great rambler,
He went away milleniums ago,
And we are the mascots he forgot.
If God exists, he should persist,
He has almost convinced us all.
If God exists I don’t believe he likes to cause us any harm,
But I won’t join this army that always try to justify him.
He’s old enough to talk for himself,
He could use self-defence.
Maybe he has a cheek,
Or maybe he’s too weak
To accept that his work fails,
Perhaps he’s now biting his nails.
If God exists perhaps his fist is blowing now a kind of desk,
Perhaps he’s angry ‘cause we die, perhaps he feels he’s in a mess,
Who ordered me to create
This organisms of love and hate?
It has got out of my hand,
What will I tell to my friends?
If God exist, he sould insist,
There must be a way out of this.
If God exist, he sould insist,
There must be a way out of this.
Though ev’ryday I think of you
I have my life, I buy my own shoes,
I let my hair grow long.
I wake up exactly whenever I want
I go to sleep with anyone,
If I’m lucky or if I’m not.
And I suppose that things are
The way they’ve got to be.
But we’re so far from each other,
Time also tarnished our dreams.
I get home late, I don’t find the key,
Deep in my pockets, it is a tease,
I see it’s not my door.
Jack Daniels explained me his old tale,
He lied to me, made me feel brave,
And I ate his words.
I always thought that happiness
Was only to be free.
And now I know that freedom
Could be a lot of things.
If God only knows, then it is the same,
A cloud is as boring as a flame
If time will never stop.
When you get the goal, there’s another race,
So you always feel out of time and space,
A new horizon’s forever there.
I know that there’s no answer,
So I refuse to ask.
I wouldn’t call it anything,
It’s just the way things are.
She doesn’t want you beautiful,
Not specially, neither brave,
Neither daring in excess.
She’s not longing for another thing
with the aroma of other’s routine,
but her own routine.
Just before getting sick,
Few after boredom.
She wants you to go with her
And you to lie her
Telling that world was made for her.
And she wants to be lied again
Tomorrow and ev’ryday.
She’d have liked to have been lied yesterday.
She’ll embrace you then, with no more waiting
And, as you feel as the owner of all the good,
She’ll claim for more lies,
To make her forget that she bends,
She wrinkles and she dies
For nothing.
You can see, they’re all around,
in the city, in the town,
in the center, in the corner of the scene.
They are happy, they are blue,
They tell lies, they tell the truth,
They show you kind screens.
They say goodbye, they say hello,
Because they also talk ,you know,
Even more gently than a man.
And if they have the needed chip,
And if you move rightly your lips,
With no effort, they understand.
They will move to wash your teeth,
Cut your bread, or heat your meat,
Tell the time, or clean your clothes.
They amend your slow heart beat,
They invent and they repeat,
They correct all your wrong words.
But I suppose one of this days,
Perhaps if the pendulum sways,
Rustic things will look like good.
What will they do with the machines?
Will they collect them like small sins?
Will they find the needed pool?
In the planet there’s a mad
Monster that has lost its head,
And Progress is its name.
It’s revered by the ones
Whose fondness’s just to run-
they sell their acts as sane-.
I’ve heard they’re building a machine
To dwarf the money that they win-
They have a problem with the space.
What will they do with the machines?
The tale ends where the tale begins,
To bad weather, a brave face.
I was beside you, you saw I was true, you thought I was a friend,
I don’t blame you, you could have been right, I would have thought the same.
It was so romantic, it was so unreal, the way you made me glad,
It was too dangerous, it was too close, I was worried about that.
I could have fought if I had been brave, if I had liked to fight,
But I’m too saviour to fight for love, I knew I had to hide.
I crossed the ocean: “I’ll dissapear, I’ll go the way I came”,
You’ll look more beautiful at the end if I never see you with a cane.
It’s not a love story, it’s not a tale, let’s say it’s been a while;
And when I get sober and I think of it perhaps I be able to smile.
Meanwhile I will think I have left your side, and I never gave you a rose,
But that’s the problem of being me in the cold world I propose.
We should be sick of numbers,
We should be afraid of speed,
This science that they sell
Is sending us to hell,
It’s today’s bread
But tomorrow’s death.
I don’t know exactly what to do,
I’m just sure I shouldn’t trust in you,
For leaders of today
Are rarefied by their
Obssesive ideas
About winning.
Can’t you see we’d like not to compete?
How many times do you have to repeat
The same boring mistake,
Arguing for your own sake,
As life is made of wonderful
Things to see.
Crisis of pragmatism
Is coming closer.
It doesn’t know what’s surprise,
It even accepts lies.
Let poets to govern all over the world,
With their precise vision of the whole,
They know just were to look,
They find the essence to
Ev’ry litlle piece
Of existence.
Let poets to govern all over the world,
Let them explain us what they know,
Let music to sound,
Lifting from the ground.
Nature’s made of simple facts.
Black clothes and shades
Are essential and sad,
They are de rigueur,
Like cypresses, like tears and sights.
The many repetitions
Don’t make it a custom,
Being young or old,
It’s always like first time.
I imagine their voice will be far,
Like under the water in June,
A soft murmur of wails,
Strengths that will fail,
Low and solemn tune.
Someone desperately will touch my face,
But I’ll be yet unable to move,
And feeling my arms like a piece of flesh,
Is what makes me afraid and blue.
They will look at their children,
As remembering something,
As noticing that
The ritual has always existed.
They will wake up at morning,
Willing it had been a nightmare,
In their heads some of my songs,
And then they will love me like never.
They will talk of me, they will talk
When the general failure succedes,
They’ll remember my smile and the good that I did,
And they’ll pass over the wrong.
They’ll repeat that life is a shit,
And they’ll aim themselves to go on,
Meanwhile me, from my place,
May it exist or not,
I’ll be also missing you all.
In times you might feel sad,
But soon you’re back in the square
Where life looks exactly
like the arithmetic mean
between heaven and hell,
between night and day,
don’t be waiting for the truth,
as quantum physic says,
truth is an average.
Out of every place
Life’s made of boredom and disgrace,
But into every place
Indigestions make you lose the taste,
There’s no place like thresholds,
There’s no truth but doubt,
Evolution brought us down,
Down to the merry-go-round,
Carnival merry-go-round.
You’re decided to win,
Try with the slot machine.
If the number of cherrys is three,
Then you could play for free.
If God plays with dices,
It’s the same for us,
Threatening meteors, or new big bang,
All in the merry-go-round,
Carnival merry-go-round.
Now I’m yearning to look back,
to see my little world,
my litlle planet earth;
with its trees beside our roads,
its icebergs and its clouds,
and statues made of snow.
And it’s true that, after all,
I see we’re so small,
Where are ambitions?
Where is the pride?
We were made look,
We were made to pass,
It’s like a circus behind a glass,
It’s like a picture on a wall.
I remember all my days,
My young and smily face,
And the beautiful lie.
We were sure we’d never die,
that a universe of sons would be
The proof that we existed once.
Painting buffalos in caves,
Burying boxes with our things,
Writing books, composing songs.
It’s stupid or completely sane,
We know we cannot stop a train,
There is no time, we’re not that strong.
Enjoy the view…
And if it all commences once again,
I want to have the same old friends,
The same rights, the same mistakes.
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