la folie ... certains jours ... la déglingue ....
Les mots qui fuient ... les idées même ... un peu de peur panique face à cet aprés, à ce futur, qui me donnent envie de vomir ... beaucoup de colère pour ce maintenant ou l'on apprends aux mioches à nourrir les passereaux ( à se demander comment ils ont fait pour becqueter avant qu'on invente les défenseurs des zanimaux ... ) ... pendant qu'on leur explique qu'il faut se méfier de ... ces rien qu'on ne nomme plus ...
Peur de cette double face qui va finir par guérir les écrouelles si l'on y prends garde , à force de "pureté" ... Peur de cette soif de croyance qui semble habiter nombre de mes contemporains , qui les pousse dans une idolatrie d'un autre siécle ...
y' a des jours comme ça .... des jours à aimer la déglingue ... des jours à écouter Tom Waits ...
Peur de cette double face qui va finir par guérir les écrouelles si l'on y prends garde , à force de "pureté" ... Peur de cette soif de croyance qui semble habiter nombre de mes contemporains , qui les pousse dans une idolatrie d'un autre siécle ...
Small change got rained on with his own .38
And nobody flinched down by the arcade
And the marquise weren't weeping
They went stark-raving mad
And the cabbies were the only ones
That really had it made
And his cold trousers were twisted
And the sirens high and shrill
And crumpled in his fist was a five-dollar bill
And the naked mannikins with their
Cheshire grins
And the raconteurs
And roustabouts said buddy
Come on in
Cause, cause the dreams ain't broken down here now
Now, they're walking with a limp
Now that small change got rained on with his own .38
And nobody flinched down by the arcade
And the burglar alarm's been disconnected
And the newsmen start to rattle
And the cops are tellin' jokes
About some whore house in Seattle
And the fire hydrants plead the 5th Amendment
And the furniture's bargains galore
But the blood is by the jukebox
On an old linoleum floor
And what a hot rain on 42nd Street
And now the umbrellas ain't got a chance
And the newsboy's a lunatic
With stains on his pants
Cause, cause small change got rained on with his own .38
And no one's gone over to close his eyes
And there's a racing form in his pocket
Circled "Blue Boots" in the 3rd
And the cashier at the clothing store
He didn't say a word as the
Siren tears the night in half
And someone lost his wallet
Well it's surveillance of assailants
If that's whatchawannacallit
And the whores hike up their skirts
And fish for drug-store prophylactics
With their mouths cut just like
Razor blades and their eyes are like stilettos
And her radiator's steaming
And her teeth are in a wreck
Now she won't let you kiss her
But what the hell do you expect
And the Gypsies are tragic and if you
Wanna to buy perfume, well
They'll bark you down like
Carneys... sell you Christmas cards in June
But, but small change got rained on with his own .38
And his headstone's
A gumball machine
No more chewing gum
Or baseball cards or
overcoats or dreams and
someone is hosing down the sidewalk
and he's only in his teens
Cause, cause small change got rained on with his own .38
And a fistful of dollars can't change that
And someone copped his watch fob
And someone got his ring
And the newsboy got his porkpie Stetson hat
And the tuberculosis old men
At the Nelson wheeze and cough
And someone will head south
Until this whole thing cools off cause
Small change got rained on with his own .38
Yea small change got rained on with his own .38
And nobody flinched down by the arcade
And the marquise weren't weeping
They went stark-raving mad
And the cabbies were the only ones
That really had it made
And his cold trousers were twisted
And the sirens high and shrill
And crumpled in his fist was a five-dollar bill
And the naked mannikins with their
Cheshire grins
And the raconteurs
And roustabouts said buddy
Come on in
Cause, cause the dreams ain't broken down here now
Now, they're walking with a limp
Now that small change got rained on with his own .38
And nobody flinched down by the arcade
And the burglar alarm's been disconnected
And the newsmen start to rattle
And the cops are tellin' jokes
About some whore house in Seattle
And the fire hydrants plead the 5th Amendment
And the furniture's bargains galore
But the blood is by the jukebox
On an old linoleum floor
And what a hot rain on 42nd Street
And now the umbrellas ain't got a chance
And the newsboy's a lunatic
With stains on his pants
Cause, cause small change got rained on with his own .38
And no one's gone over to close his eyes
And there's a racing form in his pocket
Circled "Blue Boots" in the 3rd
And the cashier at the clothing store
He didn't say a word as the
Siren tears the night in half
And someone lost his wallet
Well it's surveillance of assailants
If that's whatchawannacallit
And the whores hike up their skirts
And fish for drug-store prophylactics
With their mouths cut just like
Razor blades and their eyes are like stilettos
And her radiator's steaming
And her teeth are in a wreck
Now she won't let you kiss her
But what the hell do you expect
And the Gypsies are tragic and if you
Wanna to buy perfume, well
They'll bark you down like
Carneys... sell you Christmas cards in June
But, but small change got rained on with his own .38
And his headstone's
A gumball machine
No more chewing gum
Or baseball cards or
overcoats or dreams and
someone is hosing down the sidewalk
and he's only in his teens
Cause, cause small change got rained on with his own .38
And a fistful of dollars can't change that
And someone copped his watch fob
And someone got his ring
And the newsboy got his porkpie Stetson hat
And the tuberculosis old men
At the Nelson wheeze and cough
And someone will head south
Until this whole thing cools off cause
Small change got rained on with his own .38
Yea small change got rained on with his own .38
y' a des jours comme ça .... des jours à aimer la déglingue ... des jours à écouter Tom Waits ...