não o digo muitas vezes porque o poder da palavra pronunciada é, na maioria das vezes, insondável - e não se pode correr riscos com as poucas coisas que estão seguras e intactas à margem de todo o desassossego. questões estéticas e musicais à parte, os Bauhaus permanecem o único lugar absoluta e integralmente meu. por causa do post anterior andei a recordar, e trouxe duas letras: uma pelo dia de hoje; a outra, pelo mais belo pedaço de escrita musical que conheço:


Crowds

What do you want of me
What do you long from me
A slim Pixie, thin and forlorn
A count, white and drawn
What do you make of me
What can you take from me
Pallid landscapes off my frown
Let me rip you up and down

For you I came to forsake
Lay wide despise and hate
I sing of you in my demented songs
For you and your stimulations
Take what you can of me
Rip what you can off me
And this I'll say to you
And hope that it gets through

You worthless bitch
You fickle shit
You would spit on me
You would make me spit
And when the Judas hour arrives
And like the Jesus Jews you epitomize
I'll still be here as strong as you
And I'll walk away in spite of you

And I'll walk away
Walk away



Mask

The man of shadows thinks in clay
Dreamed trapped thoughts of suffocation day
He's seen in iron environments
With plastic sweat out of chiselled slits for eyes

From the growth underneath the closed mouth
You'll catch if you listen
Rack-trapped cubist vowels
From a dummy head expression
From a dummy head expression

The transformation is invested
With the mysterious and the shameful
While the thing I am becomes something else
Part character part sensation

The shadow is cast