ΣΤΙΧΟΙ ΑΠΟ ΕΝΑ ΤΡΑΓΟΥΔΙ ΠΟΥ ΑΓΑΠΗΣΑΜΕ - ΑΓΑΠΑΜΕ ΚΑΙ ΣΙΓΟΤΡΑΓΟΥΔΑΜΕ!

[Bhutia]

Β.Β.King :"Chains and Things"

Woke up this morning
After another one of those crazy dreams
Oh, nothing is going right this morning
The whole world is wrong it seems
Oh, I guess it's the chains that bind me
I can't shake it loose, these chains and things

Got to work this morning
Seems like everything is lost
I got a cold hearted wrong doin' woman
And a slave driving ball
I can't lose these chains that bind me
Can't shake them loose, these chains and things
Just can't lose these chains and things

Oh, you talk about hard luck and trouble
Seems to be my middle name
All the odds are against me
Yes, I can only play a losin' game
These chains that bind me
Can't lose these chains and things
Just can't lose these chains and things

Oh, I would pack up and leave today people
But I ain't got nowhere to go
Ain't got no money to buy a ticket
And I don't feel like walkin' anymore
These chains that bind me
Oh, I can't lose, I can't lose these chains and things

 

[One Happy Cloud]

Dusk: What are the Chances

Tell me what are the chances
of me drinking alone
of aching for you to the bone?

Tell me what are the chances
this bottle could keep me alive
without you by my side?

And tell me what are the chances of me
meeting you in the rain
with nothing to say...?

I had a dream I was on fire
you were watching me closely
then you just left

I had a dream it turned into nightmare
you were light, now only darkness I see
you were all I desired...

And tell me what are the chances of me
meeting you in the rain
for second chances...?

All my friends seem to remind me
of the bitterness I feel
and how you despise me

Tell me please what are the chances
of me leaving doors open wide
of you coming in with a smile...?

And tell me what are the chances of me
meeting you in the rain
with nothing to say...?

And tell me what are the chances of me
meeting you in the rain
for second chances...?

Tell me please is this the end?
Cause I 've runned out of chances my friend
I 've runned out of chances...

Tell me please I 'm closed to myself
I feel beaten and broken again
beaten and broken...

And tell me what are the chances of me
leaving you in the rain
all covered in pain...?

And tell me what are the chances of you
passing me by with your car
when I was still there
left alone with my chances, with my nightmares,
with my hopes and fears to dry...?
You are a nightmare, it 's a nightmare...

What are the chances of me...?
What are the chances of you...?
Tell me please, my guardian angel,
Will you come for me?
Will you come for me?

https://soundcloud.com/the-sound-of-everything-2/dusk-what-are-the-chances

 

[One Happy Cloud]

New York Cat Power
Start spreadin' the news
I'm leavin' today
I want to be a part of it
New York, New York

These vagabond shoes
Are longin' to stray
Right through the very heart of it
New York, New York

I want to wake up in a city that doesn't sleep
To find I'm cream of the crop and top of the heap

These little-town blues
Are meltin' away
I'll make a brand-new start of it
Oh, in New York

If I can make it there
I'll make it anywhere
New York
It's up to you
New York

 

[Snow Whitty]

Στίχοι:
Δημήτρης Μητσοτάκης
Μουσική:
Παναγιώτης Κατσιμάνης
1.Ενδελέχεια

2.Γιάννης Κότσιρας

Τι τραγούδι να σου πω που να σε ξέρει;
Να’ ναι εκεί όταν γελάς κι όταν φοβάσαι.
Να’ ναι εκεί όταν μεθάς κι όταν λυπάσαι.
Κι όταν κρύβεσαι στης μοναξιάς τα μέρη.

Τι τραγούδι να σου πω εκεί που πας;
Να μη μοιάζει με κανένα.
Τι τραγούδι να σου πω εκεί που πας;
Μα να μοιάζει μ’ όλα όσα αγαπάς.

Τι τραγούδι να σου πω που να’ χει αέρα;
Σαν κι αυτά μες τις κασέτες που `χουν λιώσει.
Γιατί πάτησαν το χρόνο, σ’ έχουν νιώσει.
Πήραν σήκωσαν το φως κι εδώ το φέραν.

Τι τραγούδι να σου πω εκεί που πας;
Να μη μοιάζει με κανένα.
Τι τραγούδι να σου πω εκεί που πας;
Μα να μοιάζει μ’ όλα όσα αγαπάς.

Τι τραγούδι να σου πω χωρίς ουσία;
Να το φτύνουν οι σοφοί κι οι μπερδεμένοι.
Να γεννιέται στα ρηχά κι εκεί να μένει.
Να μην έχει ούτε λάμψη, ούτε αξία.
Μα να φέγγει στη δική σου καταχνιά.

 

[Snow Whitty]

Διόδια / Σιόλας Σταυρος, Φωτεινή Βελεσιωτου



Τώρα θα δεις τα χρώματα ν’ αλλάζουνε
και τα βουνά να σμίγουν ένα-ένα.
Άγγελοι σα θνητοί θα σ’ αγκαλιάζουνε
εχθροί θα σου μιλούν αγαπημένα.

Τώρα θα πιω νερό απ΄το ποτήρι σου
δικά σου θα'ναι πια όσα δεν έχω.
Θα σπρώξω ουρανό στο παραθύρι σου
κι ό,τι δεν άντεχα θα το αντέχω.

Τώρα θα πιάσω σπίτι στον παράδεισο
τσάμπα οικόπεδο σε παράλια.
Του έρωτα θα βάλω το πουκάμισο
και θα νικήσω δίχως πανοπλία.

Τώρα θα δεις μες στης ψυχής τα υπόγεια
τραπέζι με ψωμί,νερό κι αλάτι
τώρα που δεν υπάρχουνε διόδια
που πέφτει σαν ζεστή βροχή η αγάπη.

 

[Snow Whitty]

Αμφιβολία - Αλεξανδρος Εμμανουηλιδης ( στίχοι- μουςικη ), Μαρια Παπαγεωργιου




Αναρωτιέμαι αν είμαι εδώ,
μήπως το χώμα που πατώ,
είναι από σκέψη μόνο.
Αν ό,τι βλέπω είν' υπαρκτό,
ή μια εικόνα στο μυαλό,
μια μάχη με το χρόνο.

Κι αν ειν' τα χείλη σου γλυκά
και τα φιλιά σου αληθινά,
ή είσαι μόνο αέρας.
Αν κάθε βράδυ είσαι εδώ,
ή αν αγκαλιάζω το κενό,
μιας ακόμα μέρας.

Αναρωτιέμαι αν ότι ζω,
έχει ένα νόημα κρυφό,
ή είναι μια απάτη.
Αν έχω μέσα μου Θεό,
ή ένα τίποτα στεγνό
και μια ελπίδα σκάρτη...

 

[Snow Whitty]

Βγαίνει ο ήλιος ακόμα - Γ.Περρης

Στίχοι: Ρεβεκκα Ρουσση

Μια φορα το άκουσα μισό κι απο τότε δεν το εχω ξαναβρεί κάπου ...

Ειχα κρατήσει αυτο το στίχο στο νου : κοίτα.....γίνομαι χώμα, να `χεις Γη να πατάς



Βγαίνει ο ήλιος ακόμα στη σκιά μην κρυφτείς
κάνε όνειρο χρώμα στο κενό μη χαθείς

Βγαίνει ο ήλιος ακόμα, κοίτα πάλι ψηλά
κι έλα χτύπα καρδιά μου
βάλε πάλι φτερά

Είμαι αλήθεια σου εγώ κι εσύ δικιά μου
όπου υπάρχουνε δυο λάμπει ο κόσμος

Είμαι ανάσα σου εγώ κι εσύ δικιά μου
σε κρατάω σφιχτά, σ’ αγαπάω δυνατά
κι ας μη σ’ το `πα ποτέ, στο τραγούδησα

Βγαίνει ο ήλιος ακόμα, στον εαυτό σου χρωστάς
κοίτα.....γίνομαι χώμα, να `χεις Γη να πατάς

Βγαίνει η θάλασσα ακόμα σε δωμάτια κλειστά
κοίτα.... άναψα φώτα, φώτα στην ερημιά!

 

[Snow Whitty]

Ο ΔΙΚΟΣ ΜΟΥ ΘΕΟΣ

Στίχοι: Γεράσιμος Ευαγγελάτος
Μουσική: Θέμης Καραμουρατίδης


Πόσο μας βαριέται ο Θεός
Γκρίνιες, χωρισμοί, σκηνές, θυμός
Φτώχεια προ πολλού.
Λείπει τελευταία για δουλειές
Δεν ακούει ό, τι κι αν του λες.
λες και μένει αλλού.

Μα εγώ έχω εσένα
Είσαι ο δικός μου Θεός
Όλα θλιμμένα
Ήρθες κι εγένετο Φως.

Χίλια λουλούδια σου χρωστάω

Είσαι ο δικός μου Θεός.
Κάνεις τη διαφορά
Ένας μικρούλης Θεός,
Στην καρδιά μου χωρά

Είμαι το χώμα εγώ
Κι είσαι εσύ η βροχή.
Φτάνει η δική σου αγκαλιά
Για ν' ανθίσει όλη η γη.

Οι άνθρωποι γεννιούνται και γερνούν
Άλλα λένε κι άλλα εννοούν
Άνθρωποι δειλοί.

Όλοι ψάχνουν κάποιον ν' αγαπούν
Μα δεν έχουν τρόπο να το πουν
Μένουν σιωπηλοί.





Θρυψαλακι - Γιωτα Νεγκα

Στίχοι : Γεράσιμος Ευαγγελατος

Αν σ’ ακουμπήσω, θα σε γεμίσω σκόνη
και έχεις μια κράση που άλλο δε σηκώνει
σ’ έχουνε σπάσει πολλοί πριν σε γνωρίσω
σ’ έχουνε σπάσει πολλοί πριν σ’ αγαπήσω.

Αχ, θρυψαλάκι μου, αχ, θρυψαλάκι.

Δεν έχει πιο προσωπικό, μου `γινες δέρμα
δε οου φυλάω άλλο κακό, αυτό και τέρμα.

Αν σ’ ακουμπήσω, μπορεί και να σε σπάσω
μα αν το ζητήσεις, μπορώ και να σου μοιάσω
σ’ έχουνε σπάσει πολλοί πριν σε γνωρίσω
σ’ έχουνε σπάσει πολλοί πριν σ’ αγαπήσω.

Αχ, θρυψαλάκι μου, αχ, θρυψαλάκι.

Δεν έχει πιο προσωπικό, μου `γινες δέρμα
δε σου φυλάω άλλο κακό, αυτό και τέρμα και τέρμα.

 

[Snow Whitty]

Και να το τέλος του κόσμου
χαλάρωσε φως μου, κοιμήσου εσύ
Εγώ δηλώνω αθώος, θα βγω πάλι σώος
με μια προσευχή

Και πάλι φταίνει οι άλλοι, μικροί και μεγάλοι
και όλα καλά
Αφού τον έχω λαδώσει, να μη με χρεώσει
κι αυτή τη φορά

Δεν τρέχει τίποτα και δεν βαριέσαι
όλα υπό έλεγχο μη μου χαλιέσαι
Αναλογίσου πως φτάσαμε εδώ
νιώσε περήφανος και γύρισε πλευρό

Και να που καίγεται η Τροία
καμιά ανησυχία, κανείς πανικός
Θα παίξω πάλι τον τύπο στο Δούρειο Ίππο
που μένει ασφαλώς

Κι αν όλα στάχτη έχουν γίνει
δεν φέρω ευθύνη, δεν φταίω εγώ
Εμένα κάτι με δένει
μ’αυτήν την Ελένη που χρόνια ζητώ

Στίχοι: Δημήτρης Χαλιώτης

 

[One Happy Cloud]

Depeche Mode - Martyr
I've been a martyr for love
And I will die in the flames
As I draw my last breath
As I'm close in on death
I will call out your name

I've been a martyr for love
Nailed up on the cross
While you're having your fun
As the damage is done
I'm assessing the cost

I knew what I was letting myself in for
I knew that I could never even the score

I've been a martyr for love
I need to be by your side
I have knelt at your feet
I have felt you deceit
Could have leave if I tried

I've been a martyr for love
Tortured every hour
From the day I was born
I've been moved like a pawn
By the greatest of powers

I knew that I would have to suffer in vain
Aware that I would never outgrow the pain

I've been a martyr for love...

 

[Snow Whitty]

Κάτι Ελλάδες - Δάφνη Λέμπερου




Πάνω στα τσιμέντα, μέσα στις σκουριές
δένονται οι σιωπές με το ατσάλι
Κι όπως παν’ τα χέρια στον ιδρώτα, δες
θα μιλήσουνε, θα μιλήσουνε κάποτε οι ζωές

Κάτω απ’ τις παράγκες, κάτω απ’ τα γιαπιά
ζούνε κάτι Ελλάδες σαν θηρία, σαν θηρία
Κι όταν πια ξεσπάσουν δεν θα είναι αργά
έτσι γράφεις πάντα ιστορία, με τα δάχτυλα

Πάνω στις καρότσες κάρβουνο ο καιρός
κι όλη η ζωή συνομιλία
Λες στον εαυτό σου και σου λέει κι αυτός
πες τι έμεινε, πες τι έμεινε απ’ το τόσο φως

Ν. Μωραιτης

 

[Bhutia]

Alex Harvey Band-"Next" (εμφάνιση του 1973 από το The Old Grey Whistle Test-διασκευή σε σύνθεση του ανυπέρβλητου Jacques Brel)


Naked a sin
An army towel, covering my belly
Some of us weep, some of us howl
Knees turn to jelly, but Next! Next!
I was just a child
A hundred like me
I followed a naked body
A naked body followed me, Next! Next!
I was just a child when my innocence was lost
In a mobile army whorehouse
A gift of the army, free of cost. Next! Next! Next!

Me, I really would have liked a little bit of tenderness
Maybe a word, maybe a smile, maybe some happiness, but Next! Next!
Oh, it was not so tragic
and heaven did not fall
But how much at that time
I hated being there at all, Next! Next!
I still recall the brothel trucks, the flying flags
The queer lieutenant slapped our arses
He's thinking we are fags. Next! Next! Next!

I swear on the wet headof my
First case of gonorrhea
It is his ugly voice that I forever fear, Next! Next!
A voice that stinks of whiskey, corpses and of mud
The voice of nations
The thick voice of blood, Next! Next!
Since then each woman I have taken into bed
They seem to lie in my arms
And they whisper in my head, Next! Next!

Oh, the naked and the dead
Could hold each other's hands
As they watch me dream at night
In a dream that nobody understands
And though I am not dreaming in a voice grown dry 'n' hollow
I stand on endless naked lines of the following and the followed
The Next! Next!

One day I'll cut my legs off
I'll burn myself alive
I'll do anything to get out of life, to survive
Not ever to be next, Next! Next!
Not ev....er... to be next, not ev............er.....ahh

 

[Snow Whitty]

Στίχοι: Νίκος Μωραΐτης
Μουσική: Στάμος Σέμσης

Χαθήκανε και το νερό
τους έφερε ως εδώ
Αδέσποτα χωρίς χαρτιά
με πρόσωπα στεγνά

"Εγώ που χρόνια τώρα τριγυρνώ
σαν πουλί περιπλανώμενο
μες στη μοναξιά,μες στην ξενιτιά
που δεν την αντέχω άλλο πια..."

Ξένος ήμουνα κι εγώ
πριν γίνω αφεντικό
πριν χτίσω και φτιαχτώ
πριν μάθω να ξεχνώ
Ξένος ήμουνα αλλά
εσύ είσαι ο ξένος πια
και δίπλα μου όπως ζεις
τη μέρα μου ενοχλείς

Χαθήκαμε μες στην κοιλιά
μιας μάνας που ξεχνά
Κι απ΄το εμείς το ξένο εγώ
μου λέει να μισώ



Ανδριανα Μπάμπαλη - Περιπλανωμενο

 

[One Happy Cloud]

Σαν μαγεμένο το μυαλό μου

 

[Yiannis_B]

Just The Right Bullets


There is a light in the forest
There's a face in the tree
I'll pull you out of the chorus
And the first one's always free

You can never go a-hunting
With just a flintlock and a hound
You won't go home with a bunting
If you blow a hundred rounds

It takes much more than wild courage
Or you'll hit the tattered clouds
You must have just the right bullets
And the first one's always free

You must be careful in the forest
Broken glass and rusty nails
If you're to bring back something for us
I have bullets for sale

Two, three, four

Why be a fool when you can chase away
Your blind and your gloom
I have blessed each one of these bullets
And they shine just like a spoon

To have sixty silver wishes
Is a small price to pay
They'll be your private little fishes
And they'll never swim away

I just want you to be happy
That's my only little wish
I'll fix your wagon and your musket
And the spoon will have its dish

And I shudder at the thought
Of your poor empty hunter's pouch
So I'll keep the wind from your barrel
And bless the roof of your house

Written by: Tom Waits
Published by: Jalma Music Inc., © 1990, 1993
Official release: The Black Rider, Island Records Inc., 1993


http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Black_Rider_(album)

 

[ika]

ΜΗΤΡΟΠΑΝΟΣ - Σαν πλανόδιο τσίρκο (Αλκαίος, Μικρούτσικος)
Σαν πλανόδιο τσίρκο τη ζωή μου τη σκόρπισα
Σε σταθμούς και πλατείες που με πάς δε σε ρώτησα
Τώρα δίχω ςπυξίδα τα ταξίδια μου κάνω
Τη φωνή σου ακούω μα τι λες δε σε πιάνω.

Ελλάδα Βέμπο μου και Μαίρυλιν Μονρόε
Ελλάδα Ελύτη μου και Έντγκαρ Άλλαν Πόε
Ελλάδα μάγισσα παρθένα και τροτέζα μου
Ελλάδα Τούμπα Αλκαζάρ και Καλογρέζα μου.

Μια φορά μου γεννούσες ένα πάθος παράφορο
Τώρα παίζεις παιχνίδι που μ'αφήνει αδιάφορο
Δεν κερδίζω δενχάνω σ'αγαπώ και σ'αρνιέμαι
Κι από ένα κλαράκι του γκρεμού σου κρατιέμαι.

Ελλάδα Βέμπο μου και Μαίρυλιν Μονρόε
Ελλάδα Ελύτη μου και Έντγκαρ Άλλαν Πόε
Ελλάδα μάγισσα παρθένα και τροτέζα μου
Ελλάδα Τούμπα Αλκαζάρ και Καλογρέζα μου.

Ελλάδα Βέμπο μου και Μαίρυλιν Μονρόε
Ελλάδα Ελύτη μου και Έντγκαρ Άλλαν Πόε
Ελλάδα μάγισσα παρθένα και τροτέζα μου
Ελλάδα Τούμπα Αλκαζάρ και Καλογρέζα μου.

 

[VasilisM.]

Αυτό είναι Αφιερωμένο στην Μοναδική μου Πριγκιπέσα...,

Αλλά και στους Εδώ Αγαπημένους Φίλους μου και Μή.....


Άλλα θέλω κι άλλα κάνω
πώς να σου το πω
έλεγα περνούν τα χρόνια
θα συμμορφωθώ.

Μα είναι δώρο άδωρο
ν’ αλλάξεις χαρακτήρα
τζάμπα κρατάς λογαριασμό
τζάμπα σωστός με το στανιό.

Έξω φυσάει αέρας
κι όμως μέσα μου
μέσα σ’ αυτό το σπίτι
πριγκιπέσα μου,
το φως σου και το φως
χορεύουν γύρω μας
απίστευτος ο κόσμος
κι ο χαρακτήρας μας.

Άλλα θέλω κι άλλα κάνω
κι έφτασα ως εδώ
λάθη στραβά και πάθη
μ’ έβγαλαν σωστό.

Ξημερώματα στο δρόμο
ρίχνω πετονιά
πιάνω τον εαυτό μου
και χάνω το μυαλό μου.

 

[Yiannis_B]

Don't look for any heroes in this one.

Nick Cave & Warren Ellis / The Rider Song


'When?' said the moon to the stars in the sky
'Soon' said the wind that followed them all

'Who?' said the cloud that started to cry
'Me' said the rider as dry as a bone

'How?' said the sun that melted the ground
and 'Why?' said the river that refused to run

and 'Where?' said the thunder without a sound
'Here' said the rider and took up his gun

'No' said the stars to the moon in the sky
'No' said the trees that started to moan

'No' said the dust that blunted its eyes
'Yes' said the rider as white as a bone

'No' said the moon that rose from his sleep
'No' said the shriek of the dying sun

'No' said the planet as it started to weep
'Yes' said the rider and pointed his gun.

 

[Yiannis_B]

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Gift_(The_Velvet_Underground_song)


The Gift

John Cale - spoken word, bass
Lou Reed - guitar
Sterling Morrison - guitar
Maureen Tucker - percussion

Waldo Jeffers had reached his limit. It was now Mid-August which meant he had been separated from Marsha for more than two months. Two months, and all he had to show was three dog-eared letters and two very expensive long-distance phone calls. True, when school had ended and she'd returned to Wisconsin, and he to Locust, Pennsylvania, she had sworn to maintain a certain fidelity. She would date occasionally, but merely as amusement. She would remain faithful.

But lately Waldo had begun to worry. He had trouble sleeping at night and when he did, he had horrible dreams. He lay awake at night, tossing and turning underneath his pleated quilt protector, tears welling in his eyes as he pictured Marsha, her sworn vows overcome by liquor and the smooth soothing of some neanderthal, finally submitting to the final caresses of sexual oblivion. It was more than the human mind could bear.

Visions of Marsha's faithlessness haunted him. Daytime fantasies of sexual abandon permeated his thoughts. And the thing was, they wouldn't understand how she really was. He, Waldo, alone understood this. He had intuitively grasped every nook and cranny of her psyche. He had made her smile. She needed him, and he wasn't there (Awww...).

The idea came to him on the Thursday before the Mummers' Parade was scheduled to appear. He'd just finished mowing and edging the Edelsons lawn for a dollar fifty and had checked the mailbox to see if there was at least a word from Marsha. There was nothing but a circular from the Amalgamated Aluminum Company of America inquiring into his awing needs. At least they cared enough to write.

It was a New York company. You could go anywhere in the mails. Then it struck him. He didn't have enough money to go to Wisconsin in the accepted fashion, true, but why not mail himself? It was absurdly simple. He would ship himself parcel post, special delivery. The next day Waldo went to the supermarket to purchase the necessary equipment. He bought masking tape, a staple gun and a medium sized cardboard box just right for a person of his build. He judged that with a minimum of jostling he could ride quite comfortably. A few air holes, some water, perhaps some midnight snacks, and it would probably be as good as going tourist.

By Friday afternoon, Waldo was set. He was thoroughly packed and the post office had agreed to pick him up at three o'clock. He'd marked the package "Fragile", and as he sat curled up inside, resting on the foam rubber cushioning he'd thoughtfully included, he tried to picture the look of awe and happiness on Marshas face as she opened her door, saw the package, tipped the deliverer, and then opened it to see her Waldo finally there in person. She would kiss him, and then maybe they could see a movie. If he'd only thought of this before. Suddenly rough hands gripped his package and he felt himself borne up. He landed with a thud in a truck and was off.

Marsha Bronson had just finished setting her hair. It had been a very rough weekend. She had to remember not to drink like that. Bill had been nice about it though. After it was over he'd said he still respected her and, after all, it was certainly the way of nature, and even though, no he didn't love her, he did feel an affection for her. And after all, they were grown adults. Oh, what Bill could teach Waldo - but that seemed many years ago.

Sheila Klein, her very, very best friend, walked in through the porch screen door and into the kitchen. "Oh gawd, it's absolutely maudlin outside." "Ach, I know what you mean, I feel all icky!" Marsha tightened the belt on her cotton robe with the silk outer edge. Sheila ran her finger over some salt grains on the kitchen table, licked her finger and made a face. "I'm supposed to be taking these salt pills, but," she wrinkled her nose, "they make me feel like throwing up." Marsha started to pat herself under the chin, an exercise she'd seen on television. "God, don't even talk about that." She got up from the table and went to the sink where she picked up a bottle of pink and blue vitamins. "Want one? Supposed to be better than steak," and then attempted to touch her knees. "I don't think I'll ever touch a daiquiri again."

She gave up and sat down, this time nearer the small table that supported the telephone. "Maybe Bill'll call," she said to Sheila's glance. Sheila nibbled on a cuticle. "After last night, I thought maybe you'd be through with him." "I know what you mean. My God, he was like an octopus. Hands all over the place."She gestured, raising her arms upwards in defense. "The thing is, after a while, you get tired of fighting with him, you know, and after all I didn't really do anything Friday and Saturday so I kind of owed it to him. You know what I mean." She started to scratch. Sheila was giggling with her hand over her mouth. "I'll tell you, I felt the same way, and even after a while," here she bent forward in a whisper, "I wanted to!" Now she was laughing very loudly.

It was at this point that Mr. Jameson of the Clarence Darrow Post Office rang the doorbell of the large stucco colored frame house. When Marsha Bronson opened the door, he helped her carry the package in. He had his yellow and his green slips of paper signed and left with a fifteen cent tip that Marsha had gotten out of her mother's small beige pocketbook in the den. "What do you think it is?" Sheila asked. Marsha stood with her arms folded behind her back. She stared at the brown cardboard carton that sat in the middle of the living room. "I dunno."

Inside the package, Waldo quivered with excitement as he listened to the muffled voices. Sheila ran her fingernail over the masking tape that ran down the center of the carton. "Why don't you look at the return address and see who it's from?" Waldo felt his heart beating. He could feel the vibrating footsteps. It would be soon.

Marsha walked around the carton and read the ink-scratched label. "Ah, god, it's from Waldo!" "That schmuck!" said Sheila. Waldo trembled with expectation."Well, you might as well open it," said Sheila. Both of them tried to lift the staple flap. "Ah sst," said Marsha, groaning, "he must have nailed it shut."They tugged on the flap again. "My God, you need a power drill to get this thing open!" They pulled again. "You can't get a grip." They both stood still,breathing heavily.

"Why don't you get a scissor," said Sheila. Marsha ran into the kitchen, but all she could find was a little sewing scissor. Then she remembered that her father kept a collection of tools in the basement. She ran downstairs, and when she came back up, she had a large sheet metal cutter in her hand. "This is the best I could find." She was very out of breath."Here, you do it. I-I'm gonna die." She sank into a large fluffy couch and exhaled noisily. Sheila tried to make a slit between the masking tape and the end of the cardboard flap, but the blade was too big and there wasn't enough room. "God damn this thing!" she said feeling very exasperated. Then smiling,"I got an idea." "What?" said Marsha. "Just watch," said Sheila, touching her finger to her head.

Inside the package, Waldo was so transfixed with excitement that he could barely breathe. His skin felt prickly from the heat, and he could feel his heart beating in his throat. It would be soon. Sheila stood quite upright and walked around to the other side of the package. Then she sank down to her knees, grasped the cutter by both handles, took a deep breath, and plunged the long blade through the middle of the package, through the masking tape, through the cardboard, through the cushioning and (thud) right through the center of Waldo Jeffers head, which split slightly and caused little rhythmic arcs of red to pulsate gently in the morning sun.

 

[Yiannis_B]

http://www.videodetective.com/music/over-the-city/426388

United 1-0-9,

New York to California

departure time,just before dawn..

we got up late,
cab was waiting' for her
on the street,
blowing its horn

before I made a scene,
she hurried out the door
forgot her favorite jeans,
on the bedroom floor

I look into the sky,
tears in my eyes...

..and my baby flies over the city

Her agent got a deal,
with a guy from Sacramento

He's waiting,in a limousine
to go downtown,
show her around
local stations and magazines..

Promise her the sun,
promise her the sun
by the time she's home,
illusions will be gone

I look into the sky,
tears in my eyes..

..and my baby flies over the city

....

dropped in Smithy - Joe's, for a drink or two
had a meal, 7th Avenue

Late at night,
got back home

Thats when she called me
on the telephone

Tell me not to worry,
it'll work out fine

she says we need the money,

but in the meantime
look into the sky,
tears in my eyes

..and my baby flies over the city...