lauantai 24. marraskuuta 2012

The Lament of Blood and Tears

Such a pride being my father's daughter
and my brother's sister
when we drive down to nowhere
in that silver metal box

They look so adultlike,
in their hair-do's combed so fine,
they talk about everything
except the sadness and sorrow

They have their tidy jackets and trousers,
little dusty and little gritty
and they keep their hands tightly crossed or
behind the steering wheel

Their voices comfort when their words can´t,
and the eyes tell what the voices can´t
When there´s something that needs to be told,
they definitely won´t shout it out

I think of us three
as a powerful family tree
when we walk the dank path and
encounter at the end

When I apprehend that we are one and the same,
I count myself to them,
I can get through anything,
though my head should be smarter

They sit in a good posture,
their backs are strong and straight
They don´t want to be there
and in that we all are the same

There´s always a route back from nothing
and they are so eager to move on
I know they want to embrace life or
at least mourn it on their own

I feel like we are some kind of rebels,
with the need to get along on our own,
though we all are so dependent
at least on our name and freedom

So my brother waits for me
and my father knows we´ll wait for him
We say hellos and goodbyes,
we take care, we´ll handle anything

And I know he tries to fight it,
maybe he doesn´t even know
how strong the blood inside is
That it will never, ever, let go

I´ve had this pride in my family name
as long as I can remember
I asked about the eleven brothers
and smiled inside when I got the answer

My veins are filled with the same fuel,
it should be honesty, courage and truth
So I feel like I battle for the opponent
when I can´t stand straight
I stagger and I waver
I fall and I tumble
And I can´t even fucking shoot

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