soundtrack: concrete blonde - joey

it's not that
I'm ungrateful
I know I'm
a handful
I want you to know, dear
this time there
is no fear

a future
wide open
a past we
must cope with

a future
open wide
a past we
must put aside

and I want you to feel
though we both bleed
there was a point to trying
there will come a point
when we're through crying

I never took you
for granted
though at first I
felt disenchanted
please forgive
my bluntness
I was on a high
of self-righteousness

and though sometimes,
I still feel bitter and blue
I'm fighting hard to see the sun
and I hope it shines on you too

so I wrote these lines for you
so that you could read inbetween
how I feel

I wrote this lines for you
so that you would know, dear
this time there is no fear

I have been the crutches to a woman
who could walk well on her own
She was beating a horse
I never saw breathe or move at all

I have been digging my own grave
with my shovel of regrets and could have:s
and now my back is broken
and I'm too deep to get up

I have been worshiping the gods or nothing
up and down the streets of this town
pleanty of beer and alcohol
cigarettes and want for company

I have been praying in late night curches
and tempels in disguise
sacrificing both sanity and peace of mine
for some crutches at my hand

*******

look at me juggling
with so many personalities
I'm the arty party brat
and the beer drinking boi
I have so many clever monologues
memorized in my head
and you know
the only point to all of this
is to make you
want me to wake up in your bed
I have rehearsed so many tricks
get your hands up and applaud me
I'm the perfect drug
I'm morally appalling
come on and get your fix
show me why it should be you
to use me


*****

it's the end of another friday night
and look at how what you started ended up
there goes the girls
with holes in their pantyhoes
look at the cooky boys
wondering if they've had to much
to get it up
oh, the excitement of the 2 am buss
see the fifteen yr olds
who've not yet learnd how to play sober
look at the buisness woman
I bet she started out really proper

and if they'd try
I'm sure they could see
we're just extras in this
(or anyother) city

this is the story
of use or be used
competing for the glory
of who gets the last screw

you're one big mindfuck
my soul is a whore
there's no one to suck
the poison from my soul's core

cause when all is said and done
none of us are saints or saviours
we both used and was used
(your abuse is still my favorite flavour)

Det är någon som borde finnas här,
men det är med kärleken som med livet,
tillslut finns inget kvar att ta för givet.
Så säg; man lever och lär,
den som lever får se.
Ryck på axlarna
och säg; det är som det är.

Det är bara charader,
men jag kan lura mig ett tag.
Det är bara charader,
men det är livet över lag.

Bloody joke

Young people must die
For the sake of the nation
let's cheer for death
In the name of liberation
Like teenage angst
In suicide frustration

I'll know what you'll say
It's all in the packeting
What you need is bigger guns
-better marketing
This time you're sure
You'll hit what you're targeting

But to claim war can be with washed is fucking sacrilege

The truth is dead
I see the children poking it with sticks
Reading the news
I can't see the forest for all the tricks
And no one knows how to defuse
The bomb you've linked to our collective fear
You're the War's marketeer
and Death's puppeteer

I wish you'd feel for yourself how napalm licks


Getting in to your porsche
You ripe what you've killed
What the hell can I do
You're all too skilled
Going after you
Is like trying to punch smoke

but as far as I am concerned

you're still the punch line to this bloodstained joke

Jag saknar det fejkade jag:et.
När allt var image,
och allt var möjligt.
En ny människa varje dag,
personligheten kommer nog snart.
Verkligheten är subjektiv.
Sanningen är relativ,
och har aldrig tjänat mig bra.
Ärlighet varar inte längst.
Det bara känns så,
när glittret tvättats ur,
dras tiden ut.

En öl (stor stark/spendrups?)
Ett bord,
Två block
(- ett halvfullt
- ett halvtomt.)
fyra (icke fungerande) bläckpennor,
en blyertspenna.
En (alldeles för kall) jacka
En huvtröja.
Ett par jeans (slitna).
Ett par skor
(- ett hål i en häl.)
Ett flertal (dåliga) dikter.
En öl till.

En kväll.