quinta-feira, 5 de julho de 2012

Encharquem-nos de Benfica







Where are the feasts
We were promised
Where is the wine
The New Wine
(dying on the vine)
Resident mockery give us an hour for magic
We of the purple glove
We of the starling flight & velvet hour
We of arabic pleasure's breed
We of sundome & the night
Give us a creed
To believe
A night of Lust
Give us trust in
The Night
Give of color
Hundred hues
A rich Mandala
For me & you & for your silky pillowed house
A head, wisdom & a bed
Troubled decree
Resident mockery
Has claimed thee
We used to believe in the good old days
We still receive In little ways
The Things of Kindness & unsporting brow
Forget & allow
Did you know freedom exists in a school book
Did you know madmen are running our prison
W/in a jail, w/in a gaol, w/in a white free protestant
Maelstrom
We're perched headlong
On the edge of boredom
We're reaching for death
On the end of a candle
We're trying for something
That's already found us
We can invent Kingdoms of our own
Grand purple thrones, those chairs of lust
& love we must, in beds of rust
Steel doors lock in prisoner's screams
& muzak, AM, rocks their dreams
No black men's pride to hoist the beams
While mocking angels sift what seems
To be a collage of magazine dust
Scratched on foreheads of walls of trust
This is just jail for those who must
Get up in the morning & fight for such unusable standards
While weeping maidens show-off penury & pout ravings for a mad staff
Wow, I'm sick of doubt
Live in the light of certain
South
Cruel bindings
The servants have the power dog-men & their mean women
Pulling poor blankets over our sailors
(& where were you in our lean hour)
Milking your moustache?
Or grinding a flower?
I'm sick of dour faces
Staring at me from the T.V.
Tower. I want roses in my garden bower; dig?
Royal babies, rubies must now replace aborted
Strangers in the mud
These mutants, blood-meal
For the plant that's plowed
They are waiting to take us into the severed garden
Do you know how pale & wanton thrillful
Comes death on strange hour
Unannounced, unplanned for like a scaring over-friendly guest you've brought to bed
Death makes angels of us all & gives us wings where we had shoulders smooth as raven's claws
No more money, no more fancy dress
This other Kingdom seems by far the best until its other jaw reveals incest & loose obedience to a vegetable law
I will not go
Prefer a Feast of Friends
To the Giant family



3 comentários:

J.P. Gonçalves disse...

Brilhante e sempre actual.

moleculasdeamor disse...

esta musica é muuuuiiitttto boa meu, mesmo muito!!!!!!

Passaralho disse...

Muito obrigado, amigo Ricardo.

Um abraço!