søndag 20. juni 2010
I watch the TV every night,
I stay awake by satellite,
I hope and pray the nightmares,
Stay away today.
An oily shroud on a coral reef,
A black cloud's hanging over me.
When I hit on the remote,
The programmes stay the same.
Credo, credo, credo, credo.
An assegai slick with sweat and blood,
A shotgun barks at a rabid dog,
A shallow grave hugs a highway,
Beneath a bleaching sun.
When cancer sucks a young girl's breast.
When a company chains a young man's soul
When the coal dust stole
My grandad's breath away
Credo, credo, credo, credo,
It don't mean nothin'; it don't mean nothin'
It don't mean nothin'; it don't mean nothin' to me.
A tattered tramp tacks a windy wynd,
To close a crowded circle a brazier's light,
A man becomes a mountain, in the falling snow.
A mother screams and a baby cries.
The memory gone before the blood has dried.
A needle pricks the conscience,
To help it fade away.
The more you scream, the less you hear,
Or that's how it used to be.
But I just can't tell the difference
Anymore these days.
The open lips of an alter boy,
A planet spins in a silent void,
The options are ever fewer
On the ground these days
Lagt inn av The Story So Far kl. 23:30