Home :: About :: Archive ::                                                                                                     Yesterday :: About :: Archive ::                                                                                                     Yesterday :: About :: Archive ::                                                                                                     Yesterday :: About :: Archive ::                                                                                                     Yesterday :: About :: Archive ::                                                                                                     Yesterday :: About :: Archive ::                                                                                                     Yesterday :: About :: Archive ::                                                                                                     Yesterday :: About :: Archive ::                                                                                                     Yesterday :: About :: Archive ::                                                                                                     Yesterday :: About :: Archive ::                                                                                                     Yesterday ::


Atom and cell





Her skin was darker than ashes
And she had something to say
Bout being naked to the elements
At the end of yet another day
And the rain on her back that continued to fall
From the bruise of her lips
Swollen, fragile, and small

And the bills that you paid with were worth nothing at all
A lost foreign currency
Multi-coloured, barely reputable
Like the grasses that blew in the warm summer breeze
Well she offered you this to do as you pleased

And where is the poetry?
Didn’t she promise us poetry?

The redwoods, the deserts, the tropical ease
The swamps and the prairie dogs, the Joshua trees
The long straight highways from dirt road to tar
Hitching your wheels to truck, bus, or car

And the lives that you hold in the palm of your hand
You toss them aside small and damn near unbreakable
You drank all the water and you pissed yourself dry
Then you fell to your knees and proceeded to cry

And who could feel sorry for a drunkard like this
In a democracy of dunces with a parasites kiss?

And where are the stars?
Didn’t she promise us stars?

Nothing will ever be as it was
The price has been paid with a thousand loose shoes
Pictures are pasted on shop windows and walls
Like a poor mans Boltanski
Lost one and all.

Sell, sell
Bid your farewell
Come, come
Save yourself
Give yourself over
Pushing your consciousness
Deep into every atom and cell,
Sell,
Bid your farewell
Come, come
Save yourself
Give yourself over
Pushing your consciousness
Deep into every atom and cell,
Sell,
Bid your farewell
Come, come
Save yourself
Give yourself over
Pushing your consciousness
Deep into every atom and cell

(Atom and Cell - David Sylvian - Live Roma, 27/09/07)

Mi piace l'autoironia sempre presente in queste tue foto.

Detto questo, concordo con Groucho Marx quando affermava: 'Chiunque dica che può veder attraverso una donna si perde parecchio!'

:D

Sono ancora troppo indeciso, se sei più brava a fare foto o a cucinare...

Ma sono tutte così adesso? tutte con la mano sulla patata?

ho solo patate a casa. dico sempre che devo fare la spesa ma ancora non mi decido :)

Post a Comment

All images are Copyright (c) Fiordizucca | E-mail: fiordizucca at gmail dot com | Fiordizucca FoodBlog