We’re A Million
Written by DJ Mandrews on November 20, 2015
the uncanny valley presents:
kronos quartet & asha bhosle / essential logic / the raincoats / the fall / siouxsie & the banshees / gentle giant / can / regina spektor / pere ubu / sugarcubes
Stop here. This is for you, as my lover was for nobody, as the rain that didn’t wet you and the sun that didn’t warm you.
Stop here. This is for you, you don’t need to pay because it didn’t cost me anything. Stop here and go away.
Take your time with you…I haven’t the time for you. My feelings were fueled by yours: the walls that surrounded my city.
Stop here. This is for you as my lover was for nobody. You’re a million and I’ve loved you. You’re a million and I’m yours.
We’re a million to come. We’re a million to go.
Someone’s always on my tracks, and in a dark room you’d see more than you think. I’m out of my place, got to get back. I sweated a lot, you could feel the violence. I’ve got shears pointed straight at my chest, and time moves slow when you count it. I’m better than them, and I think I’m the best, but I’ll appear at midnight when the films close, cause I’m in a trance, and I sweat. I don’t want to dance…I want to go home. I couldn’t live in those people places, they might get to know my actions. I’d run away from toilets and theses, I’d run away to a non-date on the street, cause I’m in a trance, and I sweat. I don’t want to dance. I want to go home.
I feel trapped by mutual affection, and I don’t know how to use freedom. I spend hours looking sideways to the time when I was sixteen, cause I’m in a trance…and I sweat. I don’t want to dance. I want to go home.
I’m frightened…amphetamine frightened.
I go to the top of the street. I go to the bottom of the street. I look to the sky. My lips are dry.
Different lives in different places. Familiar problems, same old faces. Shuffled lives into wrong categories cross the wires and fuse humanities. Watch the muscles twitch for a brand new switch.
Scientist G.P.’s with patient guinea-pigs curing their head-aches with drastic side-effects. Doctor rectorates, condescending from on high, for all hallucinates see druggist in the sky.
Vicar experiments but ’tis blasphemy, dismissing thought of progress as the mark of devilry.
People walk and even talk, people listen then they halt, something blows up won’t come down, scattered muscles twitch too late to switch.
They’re dying to switch. Watch the muscles twitch for a brand new switch.
All in all each man in all men all men in each man he can see she can’t she can see she can see whatever whatever you may know what I don’t know but not that I don’t know it and I can’t tell you so you will to tell me all man in all men all men in each man he can see she can’t she can see she can see whatever whatever you may know what I don’t know but not that I don’t know it and I can’t tell you so you will have to tell me all
It hurts him to think that she is hurting her by him being hurt to think that she thinks he is hurt by making her feel guilty at hurting him by her thinking she wants him to want her her wants her to want him to get him to want him to get him to want her she pretends.
He tries to make her afraid by not being afraid.
You may know what I don’t know but not that I don’t know it and I can’t tell you so you will have to tell me all I get what I deserve I deserve what I get I have it so I deserve it I deserve it for I have it I get what I deserve what I deserve what I deserve what I get I have it so I deserve.
He tries to make her afraid by not being afraid.
I must go on standing. You can’t break that which isn’t yours. I’m not my own, it’s not my choice.
Be afraid of the lame (they’ll inherit your legs). Be afraid of the old (they’ll inherit your souls). Be afraid of the cold (they’ll inherit your blood). Après moi le deluge (after me comes the flood).
Февраль. Достать чернил и плакать!
Писать о феврале навзрыд,
Пока грохочущая слякоть
Весною черною горит.
(February, pick up your pen and weep,
Write poems about February in sobs and ink,
While thunder booming in the background
Is burning in the black of spring)
It had a hard day’s night, it had a harvest moon, it had a breeze like a lover’s hand, it couldn’t come too soon.
Take it awhile, awhile to be there.
I heard an old man cry like a tortured land, where to play through the scene was more than he could stand.
It was a long walk home, oh, to come to you through the heat of a rising land, I saw a writhing moon.
Somewhere to go. Somewhere to go. Somewhere to go…
She lives in this house over there, has her world outside it, grapples in the earth with her fingers and her mouth. She’s five years old, thread worms on a string, keeps spiders in her pocket, collects fly-wings in a jar, scrubs horse flies and pinches them on a line. She’s got one friend, he lives next door. They listen to the weather. He knows how many freckles she’s got. She scratches his beard. She’s painting huge books and glues them together. They saw a big raven, it glided down the sky, she touched it. Today is her birthday.
They’re sucking cigars, he got a chain of flowers and sows a bird in her knickers.
They’re sucking cigars. They lie in the bathtub, a chain of flowers.