Cliches of overturned garbage cans In the yellowing grey snow Where an old crippled hound Sniffs a bloody tampon Frosted in the Christmas night A steeple mumbles its knell of For the Peking in the alleys Who seems to emerge from death He comes to stop on the place To zoom some souvenirs Ghosts studded with ice Who crack themselves and tear up Here there was an heaven Where we used to rob our candy bars Now there's nothing left my "zombi" Not even a brothel or a bar Here is the municipal crib Under its distemper of grease Where the foetal generations Were coming to initiate themselves to spleen Cow-boys with a 45 "colt" In the blue tenderness of the latrines We were all missing Indians In front of our bowels of haemoglobin Here is the canal covered with ice Where drowned people are kept And there it's only the grimace Of a senile and peeled tomcat But his eyes are so weird And his agony so calm That even the cats around here Seem to be in exile Here is the statue of the great man Under the chestnut tree's specter Where we crunched the apple Of some viper with acne And here are the highschool's walls Where you threw up all your afternoon snacks Trying to imagine A way to stop your heart But you never saw the faces Of your stable fellows You already were in the clouds At the far end of the galaxies Such a long time messing around in this hole Counting the minutes that fall Crucifying false barmaids On the frozen walls of their tombs A truck is passing on the bypass And the North wind is waking up But don't hope for a tornado Here days are all the same Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa. |
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