Rebellion

I go to the station, rebellion in my mind.
My shoes they are a-burnin’, night is in the sky.
Ideals are burnin’ brighter but there are the lives
of the soft and easy dyin’: it’s all a crime.

The fools of tomorrow, the news and the hopes.
The music of the artist advertising jobs.
It’s turnin’ ‘round the link and the hardware only
exchanging free ideals in the midst of being lonely.

Workin’ as a cook and workin’ on a ship
movin’ through the ocean of the unknown trip,
there’s nothing here to gain, nothin’ to explain.
It’s all so soft and easy, dyin’ all the same.

Is it that what you want? Is it crystal clear?
The memory of all: Tomorrow is so real.
My guitar is a-cryin’ like a lovely girl.
Strangers from the here go into the nowhere.

When I reach the station I’ll keep it in my mind.
The things that are a-flyin’ in the open sky.
When you touch my body naked with a smile
then I feel your memories cool like an easy try.

I ain’t pickin’ milk from the statues of the moon.
My summer is a-bleedin’, you ain’t doin’ any wrong.
It’s all the hallelujah for the lovers and I come
with the adam-flower when all the angst is gone.

Now it is that drink. Tell me what you think:
Secret of pyramids? Dependency on kings?
Charming deadly whispers? Wrath of your heart?
Exposed to the light be like a goddess smart.

Is it that what you want? Is it crystal clear?
The memory of all: Tomorrow is so real.
My guitar is a-cryin’ like a lovely girl.
Strangers from the here go into the nowhere.

I go to the station, rebellion in my mind.
My shoes they are a-burnin’, night is in the sky.
Ideals are burnin’ brighter but there are the lives
of the soft and easy dyin’: it’s all a crime.

~Michel Montecrossa

                                                                           Gauting, Germany

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