|
From Her To Eternity |
KLIKNIJ NA TYTUŁ ABY PRZEJŚĆ DO UTWORU
| Avalanche (Leonard Cohen) |
I stepped into an avalanche It covered up my soul When I am not this hunchback that you see I sleep beneath the golden hill You who wish to conquer pain You must learn to serve me well You strike my side by
accident I who am on a pedestal You who wish to conquer
pain I have begun to ask for you Do not dress in those rags
for me |
| Cabin Fever! | The Captain's fore-arm like
buncht-up rope with A-N-I-T-A wrigglin free onto skull'n'dagger and a portrait of Christ, nailed to an anchor etched into the upper... Slams his fucken tin-dish down Our Captain, takes time to crush Some Bloo-Bottles glowin in his gruel with a lump in his throat, and lumpy mush Thumbing a scrap book stuck up with clag and a morbid lump of Love in his flag. Done is the Missing, now all that remain Is to sail forever, upon the stain Cabin Fever! O o o' Cabin Fever! The captain's free-hand is
a clearer Tallys up his loneliness,
notch by notch |
| Well Of Misery | Along crags and sunless
cracks I go Up rib of rock, donw spine of stone I dare not slumber where the right winds whistle Lest her creeping-soul clutch this heart of thistle O the same God that abandon'd her Has in turn abandon'd me And softenin' the turf with with my tears I dug a Well of Misery And, in that Well of Misery Hangs a bucket fulla Sorrow Which swings slow an' achin' like a bell Its toll is dead and hollow Down that well lies the long-lost dress of my lil floatin girl That muffles a tear that you let fall All down that Well of Misery Put ya shoulder to the handle, if ya dare and hoist that bucket, hither Crank'n'hoist'n'hoist'n'crank Till ya muscles waste'n'wither O the same God that abandon'd her Has in turn abandon'd me Deep in the Desert of Despair I wait at the Well of Misery |
| From Her To Eternity | Ah wanna tell ya 'bout a
girl You kno, she lives in Apt. 29 Why... that's the one right up top a mine Ah start to cry, Ah start to cry O ah hear her walkin Walkin barefoot cross the floor-boards All thru this lonesome night And ah hear her crying too. Hot-tears come splashin on down Leaking thru the cracks, Down upon my face, ah catch'em in my mouth! Walk'n'cry Walk'n'cry-y!!! From her to eternity! From her to eternity! From her to eternity! Ah read her diary on her sheets Scrutinizin every lil piece of dirt Tore out a page'n'stufft it inside my shirt Fled outa the window, And shinning it down the vine Outa her night-mare, and back into mine Mine! O Mine! From her to eternity! From her to eternity! From her to eternity! Cry! Cry! CRY! She's wearing them bloo-stockens, ah bet! and standin like this with my ear to the ceiling Listen ah kno it must sound absurd but ah can hear the most melancholy sound ah ever heard! Walk'n'cry! Kneel'n'cry-y! From her to eternity! From her to eternity! O tell me why? Why? Why? Why the ceiling still shakes? Why the fixtures turn to serpants snakes? This desire to possess her is a wound and its naggin at me like a shrew but, ah kno, that to possess her Is, therefore, not to desire her. O o o then ya kno, that lil girl would just have to go! Go! Go-o-o! From her to eternity! |
| Saint Huck | Born of the river, Born of its never-changing, never-changing murky water Huck standing like a Saint, upon its deck If ya wanna catch a Saint, then bait ja hook, let's take a walk... 'O come to me!, O come to me!' is what the dirt-irty say to Huck... HUCK woah-woah, woah woah! Saint Huck! Huck! Straight in the arms of the city goes Huck, down the heckoning streets of op-po-tunity whistling his favorite river-song... And a bad-bline-nigger at the piano Buts a sinister-bloo-lilt to that sing-a-long Huck senses somthing's wrong! Sirens wail in the city, and lil-Ulysses turn to putty Ol man River's got a bone to pick! Our boys hardly got a bone to suck! He go, woah-woah, woah woah! Saint Huck! Huck! The mo-o-o-on, its huge cycloptic eye watches the city streets contract twist and cripple and crack. Saint Huck goes on a dog's-leg now Saint Huck goes on a dog's-leg now Why, you know the story! Ya wake up one morning and ya find your a thug blowing smoke fings in some dive Ya fingers hot and itchin, cracking ya knuckles Ya bull neck briseting... Still Huck he ventures on whistling, and Death reckons Huckleberry's time is up, O woah woah woah! Saint Huck! Huck! Yonder go Huck, minus pocket-watch an' wallet gone Skin shrinks wraps his skeleton No wonder he got thinner, not, with his cold'n'skinny dinners! Saint Huck-a-Saint Elvis, Saint Huck-a-Saint Elvis O you recall the song ya used to sing-a-long Shifting the river-trade on that ol' steamer Life is only a dream! But ya trade in the Mighty ol' man River for the Dirty ol' Man Latrine! The brothel shift The hustle'n'the bustle and the green-backs rustle And all the sexy-cash And the randy-cars And the two dollar fucks O o o ya onto luck, onto luck Woah-woah-woah-woah Saint Huck! Huck! |
| Wings Off Flies | She loves me, she loves me
not She loves me, she loves me not We-e-ll, ah've spent seven days and seven nights tryin to get sunk in this brine Don't turn on ya water-works 'cause ah got me a pair of water-wings, right?! Insects suicide against the window, and my heart goes out to those lil flies There's a buggin in my ear but it's more of her black-mail, ham shakespeare + her Wings off Flies, She loves me, she loves me not. O o o o oh she loves me not!! Lord, Ah've discovered the recipe of Heaven ya git solitude and mix with sanctuary and silence, then bake it! Listen, I plead guilty to misanthropy so hang me! Ah'd appreciate it!! Witness her gate-crash my tiny hell with some obscene tete-a-lete, If ya wanna talk to me about Love'n'Pain consult my ulcer, A'd be happy to co-operate Wings off Flies, she loves me, loves me not Ey, Joe! another outa do the job. Time to drown our lil fire, ya can keep the ashes, Now bye bye, bye, bye, see ya in a pigs eye! Ah will be one, in need of no-one In this, my deepest dive... Filler up, Joe... Hey! Ah am obliged! Ah am olbiged! Wings off Flies, She loves me, she loves me not Wings off Flies etc... ad infinitum |
| A Box For Black Paul | Who'll build a box for Black
Paul? Ah'm enquirin on behalf of his soul Ah'd be beholdin to ya all For a lil information, yes some kinda information Just who'll dig the hole? When ya done ransackin his room grabbin anything that shines, throw the scrap down on the street Like all his books and his notes. All the junk that he wrote the whole fucken lot right up in smoke Aint there nuthin sacred anymore Someone will build a box for Black Paul? And there shootin off his guns and there shootin off their mouths saying 'Fuck with us ... and die!' (Let's see that rat of fear go scuttle in their skulls) 'Cover that eye! Cover that frozen eye!' Black-puppet, in a heap up against the stoning-wall Blud-puppet, go to sleep, ma-ma won't scold ya anymore Armies of ants, wade up the lil red streams they're headin for the mother-pool O lord, it's cruel, O man it's hot! And some of them ants they yes ilot to the spot Who threw the first stone at Black Paul? 'Don't ack us', say the critics and the hacks The pen-pushers and the quacks 'We jes cum to git dah facks!' 'We jes cum to git dah facks!' Hey,hey,hey,hey... Here is the hammer, that build the scaffold, and built the box... Here is the shovel, that dug the hole, in this ground of rocks... And here is the pile of stones! and for each one planted, God only knows, a blud-rose grown... These are the true Demon-Flowers! These are the true Demon-Flowers! Stand back everyone! Blud-black everyone! Who'll build a box for Black Paul? Who'll carry it up the hill? 'Not I', said the widow, adjusting his veil 'Ah will not drive the nail Or cart his puppet-body home, For ah done that one hundred times before, Yeah! ah done that one hundred times or more, And why should ah dress his wounds? When he has wounded my dress, nighty, Right across the floor' Who'll build a box for Black Paul? Who'll carry it up the hill? Who'll bury it in the black-soil? And from the words and the thickets Come the ghosts of his victims 'We love you!' 'Ah love you!' 'and this will not hurt a bit, we'll go up,up,up,up,up into Death up,up,up,up, inhale its breath O yeah, Death favours those that favor Death' Here is the stone, and this is the inscription at bare 'Below Lies Black Paul, Under The Upper... But Above and Beyond The Surface-Flat-Fall There.' And all the angels come on down, And all you men and women crowd around And all the widows weeping into their skirts And all the lil gals and the lil Boys And the scribes with mein-pens parsed All the hullaballoo, all the norse All the hullaballoo, all the noise All the hullaballoo, all of the noise clears his throat of black blut singin Black Paul like a lonely boy... We-e-e-ll, ah have cryed one thousand tears Ah've cryed a thousand tears, its true And the next stormy night ya know, That ah'm still cryin them for you Well, ah had a gal she was so sweet, Red dress, and long red hair hangin down And heaven yes ain't heaven Without that lil gal hangin around Well, ya know ah've loin a bad-man and Lord knows ah dun some good things too But ah confess, my soul will never rest Until you, until you build Until ya build a box for my gal, too. |
| In
The Ghetto (M. Davies) |
As the snow flies On a cold and grey Chicago morn A poor little baby child is born in the ghetto And his mama cries Cause there's one thing that she don't need Is another little hungry mouth to feed in the ghetto Oh people don't you understand This child needs a helping hand He's gonna grow to be an angry young man some day Take a look at you and me Are we that blind to see? Do we simply turn our heads and look the other way? And the world turns And the hungry little boy with the runny nose Plays in the streets as the cold wind blows in the ghetto And his hunger burns So he starts to roam the streets at night And he learns how to steal and he learns how to fight in the ghetto Then one night in desperation The young man breaks away He buys a gun and steals a car He tries to run but he don't get far And his mama cries A crowd gathers round an angry young man Face down in the street with a gun in his hand in the ghetto And as her young man dies On a cold and grey Chicago morn Another little baby child is born in the ghetto |
| The Moon Is In The Gutter | The moon is in the gutter And the stars wash down the sink I am the king of the blues I scape the clay off my shoes And wade down the gutter and the moon The moon blinds my eye with opal cataracts As I cut through the saw-mills and the stacks, Leaping over the gully where I would one day take Lucy Then wash up my hands in the gully and the moon. Such a long way from home, just me and The moon is in the gutter All my plans are flushed down the drain I wander lonely as a cloud Over memories at her mound Then lie down in the bitter gutter moon. |