10. Novembris 2004

• Jūlija atskaņas...
• 10.11.04 20:00
• //Jūlijā raxtīti dzejoļi. Pēdējo (par ielu) izmantoju tagad kā vārdus gičblūzam.//
  
  the smoke stops slowly
  rolling in the sky
  the sun in silence
  commits suicide
  the plastic frame of
  another plastic window
  the greenish blue of
  the everlasting sun
  the murderers of
  little birds and people
  the silent killer
  only wants to cry
  the violence
  puts fingers on the steel-string
  the instrument
  is slowly occupied...
  
  the subject is dead,
  can't find it's way to his bed
  or to his lovely dream;
  the dice is now cast,
  no way of turning back to past;
  it ain't smoke - it's steam
  of falling asleep,
  without a reason i just weep;
  last member of a team,
  she's always alone,
  she's doing better with a clone
  or so it would seem;
  the pillow is white
  and so are the sheets, there ain't no light
  'cept the lonely beam
  of sorrow and spite
  that finds it's way through the night -
  part of some evil scheme;
  a cog in a clock
  has no more soul than a rock
  no matter whacha deem
  bout meaning of life -
  whatever - is love it or it's strife
  or being in the creme;
  the subject is dead,
  can't find it's way to his bed,
  to his lovely dream.
  
  Mākoņi, Kings of Leon un Prāta Vētras meldiņš.
  Dziesma. Jāpiedomā tik vēl smuki akordi. Pašlaik dungojas kautkādi Prātvētrlike...
  
  Neliels veltījums manai ielai.
  
  I saw nothing tonight
  of sun and moon and clouds.
  I saw noting tonight
  of nature great and proud.
  Yet what I saw has now implanted
  a seed of happiness in me
  And inspiration how is granted,
  I guess that this just had to be.
  I saw the city dressed in black,
  Like gravediggers and crows;
  The lanterns giving light it lacked,
  But why - that noone knows.
  I saw the houses curling up
  In darkness to relax,
  And drunkards raising up their cups
  For that they leave no tracks.
  I saw the lonely tree again,
  That guards the end of street
  Against the disoriented men
  Who wander by their feet.
  I saw the concrete and the steel
  That make the mountains here.
  Too bad their mouths are always sealed,
  Unlike their eyes - they stare
  At happenings of our time,
  At sidewalks and at walls,
  At alleys, suited for a crime,
  Upon which shadow falls,
  At children playing ball for fun,
  At cars that roar along,
  At things that now have just begun
  And things that last for long.
  Yet silent are the elder ones -
  The concrete and the steel,
  No wisest fathers and no sons
  Can't guess just how they feel.
• Mūzika: Gičblūzs
  Garastāvoklis:: Sentimentāls
• 2 rakstair doma