Dolce vino porfavore, si grazie
At the set of the rising sun well embark on an episode of complete failure. I will stand behind a degenerate generation of hopeless romantics who are addicts of music full of clash and sound, vibrant noise and style of violence and attitude that makes us all want to dance the protest. The wall that separates us all is constructed from bricks of racism and indifference founded by the masons of our past. These fortunes we inherited are only social problems paid out in bonds of war and slaughter.
We meet up as the light dims when the fuse is lit standing in our dress shoes. The perpetuating sound of recoil gives us the bass line of rhythm. The clatter of shells bouncing off the field of battle is the key. In unison we quote our forefathers, we quote the foundations of freedoms and thus these lyrics are born. For years, with hands clenched tightly, we will dance. A swing dance with signs is our weapon for the future. Some will be lost in the apocalyptic crowd and be sent home in a lidded bed with silk lining while other will stomp a new declaration of independence endorsed by the stepping of high heels.
I woke up slammed with a hangover. Nameless faces, crowded bars, cigarettes, dancing, cab fare and then I cant remember. Ireland, Bahrain, Portugal, Im in Italy. Three hours behind eight hours ahead. I have no appointments today.
Ive seen the vast deserts of the middle east, these deserts span on and on with no hope, no rain and a ruthless war. Shiites and Sunnis fight each other on these plains and all they harvest is oil, no fruits, no vegetables, nothing. Ive watched riots, Ive watched our flag burn, symbolic cloth of hope to one nation, to another it screams poverty and fathom. Disgusting to watch. I listened during Ramadan as prayers from the Grand Mosque boomed across the city of Manama and literally thousands stop what they are doing to pray in unison. Big brother, for a year I was a witness, subjected to these cultures. Wearing desert camouflage I stood atop towers and waited, for nothing in particular, I waited.
Flying, a stewardess brings me a jack and coke, five dollars I pay. I drink until the plane lands and we are allowed off. What country have I landed in now? I listen to the dialect of the people in the terminal, Greece. I wait, this next leg will connect me to America, to Reno.
For thirty days, bars, bar fights, cab fares, jack and cokes, a girl whos name I can no longer recall, tattoos, friends, family, Oregon, funeral and goodbyes. I leave Reno with a black eye and an empty bank account.
Sicily, Catania. I live and I learn, I watch and I still wait, for nothing in particular I wait.
At the set of the rising sun well embark on an episode of complete failure. I will stand behind a degenerate generation of hopeless romantics who are addicts of music full of clash and sound, vibrant noise and style of violence and attitude that makes us all want to dance the protest. The wall that separates us all is constructed from bricks of racism and indifference founded by the masons of our past. These fortunes we inherited are only social problems paid out in bonds of war and slaughter.
We meet up as the light dims when the fuse is lit standing in our dress shoes. The perpetuating sound of recoil gives us the bass line of rhythm. The clatter of shells bouncing off the field of battle is the key. In unison we quote our forefathers, we quote the foundations of freedoms and thus these lyrics are born. For years, with hands clenched tightly, we will dance. A swing dance with signs is our weapon for the future. Some will be lost in the apocalyptic crowd and be sent home in a lidded bed with silk lining while other will stomp a new declaration of independence endorsed by the stepping of high heels.
I woke up slammed with a hangover. Nameless faces, crowded bars, cigarettes, dancing, cab fare and then I cant remember. Ireland, Bahrain, Portugal, Im in Italy. Three hours behind eight hours ahead. I have no appointments today.
Ive seen the vast deserts of the middle east, these deserts span on and on with no hope, no rain and a ruthless war. Shiites and Sunnis fight each other on these plains and all they harvest is oil, no fruits, no vegetables, nothing. Ive watched riots, Ive watched our flag burn, symbolic cloth of hope to one nation, to another it screams poverty and fathom. Disgusting to watch. I listened during Ramadan as prayers from the Grand Mosque boomed across the city of Manama and literally thousands stop what they are doing to pray in unison. Big brother, for a year I was a witness, subjected to these cultures. Wearing desert camouflage I stood atop towers and waited, for nothing in particular, I waited.
Flying, a stewardess brings me a jack and coke, five dollars I pay. I drink until the plane lands and we are allowed off. What country have I landed in now? I listen to the dialect of the people in the terminal, Greece. I wait, this next leg will connect me to America, to Reno.
For thirty days, bars, bar fights, cab fares, jack and cokes, a girl whos name I can no longer recall, tattoos, friends, family, Oregon, funeral and goodbyes. I leave Reno with a black eye and an empty bank account.
Sicily, Catania. I live and I learn, I watch and I still wait, for nothing in particular I wait.