D-A-D / We All Fall Down (by mermaidrecordsdk)
THE BLACK BOY WHO CAN SEE THE FUTURE…LOOKS OUT THE WINDOW AT THE CEMETERY….ON HIS SHOULDER SITS A WHITE BIRD WITH BLUE EYES……HE HOLDS A BOOK IN HIS HAND…PRIEST’S NIGHTMARE..
THEY FLY OVER YEARS
ENDLESS DAYS AS EASY AS NOTHING
SOUND OF SILENCE THERE FINDS A ROOM
SEEN FROM THE OUTSIDE
A UNIVERSE IN THE DARK
THE DISTANCE
A MASK IN TIME AND SPACE
…
I’VE ALWAYS SEEN THE PICTURE OF A SCARECROW
AS THE IMAGE OF A CLOWN
ALWAYS IN TRANSIT IT’S LIKE
A FEW THOUGHTS WHO RUNS FROM A DAY
IT FEELS LIKE A CIRCUS WITH NO CHILDREN AROUND
IT FEELS LIKE WAKING IN A DREAM
OF A DREAM
MOST PEOPLE ARE IN TRANSIT
THEY HOPE THAT LIFE WILL TURN AROUND
…
YOU CAN SEE LIFE AS TIME
HE IS WAITING FOR SOMEONE OTHER THAN HIMSELF
HE SEES THAT LIFE ITSELF IS LIKE A BIRD
SO EASY CAN IT FLY AWAY
IN THE CIRCUS TENT PEOPLE HAS STARTED TO LOOK UP…THEY CAN SEE THE CLOWN WALK ON A WHITE TIGHTROPE AGAINST HIMSELF…IT’S A LITTLE BIT STRANGE…THEY CAN STILL SEE HIM ON THE FLOOR…BEHIND HIM LIES A 200KG BLACK MAN IN AN AQUARIUM…HIS HEAD IS UNDER WATER…HIS EYES ARE WHITE…
IT WAS MY FIRST DAY IN A CIRCUS
BELIEVE ME - I WAS THERE
THE ATMOSPHERE IN THE TENT WAS RESTLESS
THE STENCH OF DEATH WAS IN THE CLOTHES
…
ALL PERFORMANCES - WERE AT NIGHT
IT WAS A CIRCUS WITHOUT A ROOF
IT ALL SEEMED
FAR AWAY FROM A DAY
…
ONE DAY WRITTEN IN BLACK
WITH THE WHITE
FROM A FEATHER
A BIRD TRAPPED IN A MAN’S CONSCIOUSNESS
A BLANK STARE AT A GLANCE
…
IN THOSE DAYS HE WAS THE GREAT MIND READER
HIS NAME WAS MR.BLACK
YOU COULD SEE HIM BECOMING SMALLER IN THE WATER
A BLANK STARE AT A GLANCE
…
PEOPLE IN THE TENT FELT THEY BREATHED
WITH A FACE THAT WASN’T THEIRS
THE NEXT THOUGHT THEY GOT
WERE
A DROWNING ACCIDENT IN SKIN
THE OLD TWIN ‘THE ONE’ OR ‘THE OTHER’….PUTS A NOTE UP ON THE BLACK WALL…HE SUFFERS FROM MEMORY LOSS….THERE WAS ONCE A CIRCUS IN THE SMALL TOWN…
ONE DAY FOUND IN FAREWELL
THE WHOLE VILLAGE WAS GATHERED
THEY WANTED TO SEE - IF THE DEAD CLOWN HAD SOMETHING TO TELL
HE STOOD ON HIS SCENE
A MOMENT LEFT ALONE
HE HAD DIFFICULTIES BREATHING
THEY HAD DIFFICULTIES IN BELIEVING
WHAT THEY SAW WAS A PROBLEM FOR TWO
…
THEY USED HIM AS THERAPY
NOTHING IS MORE BEAUTIFUL WHEN YOU SEE HUMAN PHOBIA
DRESSED IN
THE CLOWN’S CLAUSTROPHOBIA
…
DARKNESS FELL AS LIGHT FALLS ON A DAY
YOU COULD SEE THAT HIS MAKEUP WAS LAID
IN A PERSON´S DISCOMFORT
ONLY ONE FACE LOOKED AT IT WAS HARD TO UNDERSTAND
…
IT TAKES TWO PEOPLE
…
A SECOND ,TO UNDERSTAND
WHERE AND HOW LIFE WILL GO
…
HE PUTS HIS FINGER TO HIS MOUTH
LIGHT WAS TURNED OFF FOR AWHILE
AS THE LAUGHTER WAS GONE,WERE THE LIGHTS ON
ON A HILL..IN A SMALL HOUSE… LIVES TWO OLD TWINS…ONE OF THEM IS LIFE ITSELF…THE OTHER IS …
THESE TWO OLD TWINS HAVE NEVER SEEN EACH OTHER
YOU COULD SAY
‘THE ONE’ COULD NOT LIVE WITHOUT ‘THE OTHER’
A NIGHTMARE WITHOUT SOUND
A BLACK WALL OF WHITE THOUGHTS
A LIFE AND DEATH SITUATION
SEEN AS A BROTHER
…
YOU HAVE TO FLY AWAY MY LITTLE BIRD
YOU ARE
A NIGHTMARE WITHOUT SOUND
A BLACK WALL OF WHITE THOUGHTS
…
these little notes are pictures
on my way
i try to write a story that is stored in you
HOW CAN IT BE THAT YOU WILL PUT LIFE AND DEATH
INTO THE HUMAN FORM
AT THE LITTLE CAFE IN PARIS - THERE IS QUIET…THE BIRDS HAVE STOPPED SINGING….THE PRIEST HAS FALLEN ASLEEP…BY HIS TABLE STANDS A LITTLE BOY…HIS FACE LOOKS LIKE A PAINTING OF SCARS..
LET ME BE HONEST WITH YOU
WORDS MEAN NOTHING TO ME ANYMORE
THEY ARE DEAD
THEY DIED IN MY HEAD
…
he always had difficulties breathing
he could see people’s future before it was theirs
…
I SEE LIFE AS A PAINTING
A PAINTING OF SCARS
THEY BREATHE FROM THE SECONDS
ONE DOES NOT HAVE
IT IS WHEN DEAD PEOPLE GET VALUE
WE DISCOVER THAT SOMETHING
IS PAINTED WITH A COLOR
WE HAD INSIDE.
…
IT’S EVENING IN PARIS…IT’S FULL MOON..THE BIRDS ARE SINGING…ON A SMALL FRENCH CAFE SITS A MAN…HE LEADS A CONVERSATION..
IT’S GOOD WE HAVE THIS CONVERSATION - YOU’RE WELCOME
I HAVE THESE NIGHTMARES - YOU KNOW IT..
TUNNEL VISION
THERE MAY BE 1000 OF PEOPLE AROUND ME
I DON’T SEE THEM
HAVE YOU TOLD SOMEONE ABOUT IT..
I AM A PRIEST - I HAVE SWORN TO SECRECY
IN THESE DREAMS
THERE ARE DEAD PEOPLE IN THERE
I DON’T KNOW WHO IS ALIVE
MY DAYS ARE DARK MY NIGHTS ARE WHITE
HOLES IN A DAY - HOLES IN A NIGHT
CAN YOU HELP ME
NO..
….
IT’S A PROBLEM WHEN I PREACH
IT’S LIKE WATCHING MY OWN HANDS IN DARKNESS
WHEN THEY REACHING OUT FOR ME
….
WHAT ABOUT THE OTHER…
I’VE WRITTEN IN MY DIARY - TAKE A LOOK
IT IS FILLED WITH BLANK PAGES - TAKE A LOOK
IT’S NOT GOOD TO BE A PRIEST
WHEN ONE FILLS HIS DAYS WITH BLANK PAGES
WHEN YOU CAN’T SEE YOUR DAYS
WHAT ABOUT THE OTHER..
….
IT’S NIGHT - IT’S WINTER
I LIE ON THE ICE OF A LAKE
I CAN SEE MY OWN FACE UNDER THE ICE
I CAN SEE WHILE I SINK DEEPER
I SINK WHILE I SMILE
….
WHAT ABOUT THE OTHER…
IN CELL NUMBER 2 , THERE IS NO WINDOW…IN THE DAYTIME THERE IS ALWAYS QUIET…BUT EVERY NIGHT THERE IS A STRANGE SOUND…IT’S A LITTLE BOY…WHO CRAWLS AROUND ON THE WALLS..
THEY HAD FED HIM WITH WORMS FROM THE LOCAL CEMETERY
THEY HAD FED HIM WITH DNA FROM DEAD PEOPLE
FOR SO LONG
THAT HE THOUGHT HE WAS A BIRD
…
HOW CAN YOU BE A LIVING DEAD IN ANOTHER HEAD
A GOLDFISH TRAPPED IN A SPEECH BUBBLE
EMPTIED
IN
A ROOM
IN A AWARENESS
…
THOUGHT HOSTAGE
…
HE DID NOT KNOW HOW LONG HE HAD BEEN THERE
THEY HAD REMOVED THE LIGHT FROM HIS DAYS
…
CAN YOU FIND A DAY WHERE THERE IS NO LIGHT
CAN YOU FIND DARKNESS WHERE THERE IS NO DAY
IF THE LIGHT COULD HIT, HE HAD BEEN
HIS OWN IMAGE
IN A FRAME
IN THE LITTLE TOWN IN ENGLAND WHICH NEVER HAD A NAME…LIES A PRISON FOR CHILDREN…THEY CALL IT…’THE WORLD’
SOMETIMES I HAD A SENSE OF - THAT I COULD TALK TO GOD
AS A CHILD IN A CHURCH
WITHIN
THE WALLS
…
I COULD SEE THE FOREST FROM MY WINDOW
DURING THE NIGHT - I COULD HEAR THE BIRDS SCREAM
I SAW THEM FLY OVER THE TREES
I FELT THAT THEY FLEW WITH MY FREEDOM
THERE IS A STRANGE SILENCE WHEN A BIRD FLIES
…
I SIT HERE ALONE IN THE DARK
NAKED IN THE ROOM
I DON’T KNOW WHY THEY TOOK OUR CLOTHES
I DON’T KNOW WHY I’M HERE
I JUST KNOW
THEY PICKED US - DURING THE NIGHT
THE OLD BEGGAR GIVES BOB 1 OR TWO A NOTE…
THERE WERE BEGGING IN HER VOICE
A CRY FOR HELP - IN
NO.
…
SHE SPOKE SO SLOWLY
IT WAS AS IF WORDS - NEVER HAD LIVED IN HER MOUTH
HER LIFE HAD BECOME - A LOST INTEREST IN A STORY
THERE WERE TOO MANY PEOPLE IN IT
…
ONE EYE
LOOKED AT ME
IN BLINDNESS FOR WHAT IT HAD LOST
…
MAYBE IT SOUNDS A LITTLE STRANGE
SHE SEEMED LIKE A DEATH IN LIFE
ONE OF THEM
WHO WOKE UP TO A DAY
THERE NEVER WAS GIVEN
