hopihullet-mr.white hat.

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