Double Dutch Discords

Il vient souvant dans las nuit. Comme le douce été brise. Viens avec moi. Me dit il. Viens avec moi. Si tu veux encore rire. Il est le vin que je bois. La chaleur dont j’ai besoin. Chaud comme le plus douce embrace. Dedans une rivière en silence on habite. Ou les yeux sans mots m’a dit. Il n’y en a pas les Indiens en Brazil. Et quand il me quitte. Avec une promesse vide. Il me quitte. N’êtes pas triste mon petite. Il me dit. Mais dans le noir. Je peux voir. Et je sais que. Taché sur ses mains est le sang d’aujourd’hui. Le sang de demain. Et je sais que. Au temps je suis enchaîné. Il est le fantôme du passé.

It’s strange. Verging on the bizarre. How as you stroll on the path of life. Yesterdays are sometimes glances away. Sometimes centuries away. And the faces that make up your world. From centuries old accompany you as you stroll. Warming you like a blanket. Snugly wrapped around your soul. And as you stroll time marches on. And the faces that make up your world. Unexpectedly fall by the wayside. A limb here a limb there. Fall by the wayside. Slowly you begin to feel the chill from a blanket well worn. Slowly you begin to see angel dust blowing on the breeze. You’ve left my world a colder place. Goodbye my childhood friend. I’ll miss your smiling face.

The radio spews tunes they want us to hear. Over and over and over again. The Djs are full of bla bla bla. Like anybody cares. Just shut up DJ. TV’s bursting but full of shit. The only thing worth watching. And Derren Brown is it. Call me a nomad. Call me billy no mates. But I just want to be Derren Brown’s super duper mate. Call me a nomad. Call me billy no mates. But you’ll be jealous when Derren Brown calls me his mate.

Don’t be in a huff, boy. Don’t be off-the-cuff, boy. Come give me a shine, boy. You don’t have to be tough, boy. Now that you’re gone I miss you. All I want is you back now. Now that you’re gone I want you. Back in my bed beside me. ‘Cause you do things to me I only dream about. Now that you’re gone I miss you. All I want is you back now. You turned my world upside down when you walked out on me. All I want is you back now back inside of me.

Take me to my mountain Lebanon once again. Where cedar trees deep velvet drown me in their depth. Let me breathe the air of Lebanon once again. For no other air contains such vivid hue. Take me to its shores. Bury me beneath its gold. Let me wallow in its water blue. Deep blue. Come blue. Come deep blue. Take me to the shores of Beirute. Where now people mourn in black. Crying blue. Come blue. Come deep blue. Flood the town. Soothe the bloodstained scars of Beirute. Come blue. Warm comfort in your waves. Come blue. Bring with you the sun. To warm the hearts of warriors in Lebanon.

If I placed every second spent thinking of you. Every second spent trying to forget you. Every second in sleep haunted by you. Every prayer said. Every word written. Every tear shed. Side by side. I’d have spent a lifetime with you. And what remains when there is no other move? Do you lie down and die? Do you get up and run? Round the globe. Out of breath and out of means. Running in vain. You’re always running in vain. There’s no running when you’ve committed a sin. Lest there be one to punish or forgive. Checkmate. Take the knife. Take my heart. Let the heavy weight on my heart take flight. Having been a part of me for oh so many years. I feel extraordinarily light. This is how it must be in space. Weightlessness.

Sam and me are two close amigos. We laugh sans reason. See. Life to us has been treason. But we always have fun. Sam and me like to hear Bowie sing. Oh. Wild is the Wind. We call him the torturer. His voice is blissful pain. Sam is an alcoholic. Snakebite is her thing. They called her Long-John Silver. The day she broke her leg. And she sings. Oh. What a world we live in. When Geldof is our hero. Whilst Alan Delon. Invariably as a rule. Always. Always dies in his films. Oh. What a world we live in. And I have dreams of Bowie singing. It’s No Game. Some words haunt me. Children round the world put camel shit on the walls. Oh. What can he mean? Either way to Sam and me it’s all the same. So long as Castro doesn’t take the blame. Now. Alan Delon a fascist has become. Elton John went and got himself a wife. Now our record’s melted under the sun. We ain’t got the money to buy another one. So. Tell me. Who’s going to sing. Wild is the Wind?

Count!

I can feel what it is I’ve lost. Can’t go back and buy. ‘Cause as everybody knows. Love don’t cost. Looking back. I can feel. Where we went wrong. If I knew now what I knew then. This could be a different song. Pictures in the mind won’t go in the drawer. Visions of the past and how to make it last. If I knew that I loved her now like I knew it in the past. Instead of being so uncertain and scared if we were to last. If now was then or then was now. How different it would be for you or me. Looking at times that have now gone past. The rings on our fingers we thought would ever last.

Remember the day. How when we got off the plane. We all fell to our knees and kissed the ground. Intoxicated by the distinct aroma of Home. Remember how we vowed to pocket some before we left? I daresay some did. But some did not. Well. We’ll be back soon enough. Who would have thought it in a thousand years? Who would have thought it in a million years? Remember all the plans we’d all made? How we’d go back and improve on paradise? Who would’ve envisaged it so astray? Scattered families all around the globe. Without a country. Without a home. Roaming round like gypsies along unwelcome shores. Well. We’ll be back soon enough. Who would’ve believed it could happen to us? Who would’ve thought it in a million years? It’s all too sad to contemplate. The bitterness within too bitter to pallet. Some will forever pine and resent. Some will accept and forget. Forgetting is by far the easiest way. That was another life. Another day. This is now. This is me. Alone and content. But free.