more in eng.

i remember the cripple beggars in india
a crowd with withered legs or with no legs at all
hands like some shrunken stubs
extending their limbs, asking for money
'money sir, money sir.'
you could have shared all of your money
still it would have been like throwing dust in the air
not much effect on the grand scale of things
like feeding yourself to a swarm of piranhas
it's over quick, to repeat another day
so i sped my pace and fled
with a herd of mutilated beggars
hurrying after me, making noises
dragging themselves, desperate
an unforgettable and macabre sight

i guess i'm still on my way
with the beggars dragging after me






- - -



let's make some noise, woop woop
there's a war being waged
between the feeble empires of confusion

let's take out and shoot the fireworks
the dogs are dancing with the tragedies
in the rose gardens of desolation
and the red mill is grinding hearts
with its macabre burlesque

let's make a loud noise,
paint the walls manic
capture the fatal moment
and deposit it into a bank account

let's see the saints go marching in
free the doves and the ink
to assault the shattered minds of beauty
and all those who just by accident
happen to be at the scene of crime



- - -



square one
had a streak of luck
squandered it all
and now back at square one
with nothing

some would call this
the main prize



- - -



strange evening
i can't see no flaw
anywhere

i search for the usual places
under the carpet,
the balcony, the fridge,
under the pillow
my wretched ribcage

it's well hidden, i think
having disappeared without a notice,
like a ninja

silently
the wheel has made one perfect turn



- - -



it all boils down
it all always boils down to nothing
even if it took a thousand years
to nothing
and still we won't yield
but keep pushing
because a room full of nothing
is such a terrifying thing
in its sharpness
it has to be veiled
with a more soothing mask
of laughter, it's absence
or whatever



- - -



the people have gone mad
they shriek in no tongue
the waters have lost their senses
they pour back to the sky
from the cracks of the world
the king is out of his mind
talking feverous gibberish
and the crowds have gone wild
setting buildings on fire
the beasts are ravenous
devouring their own cubs
all the lost souls wailing in chorus
calling to join them in the abyss
there's no stopping of the flood
washing the cities and streets

it's an invitation, can you hear?