Dirt on farmer John

is the only way...

Mijenjamo se, s svakim povučenim dimom cigarete koji nas obavija poput tople deke u zimi. I fali nam još samo malo mira da postanemo ono što smo trebali biti jednom davno, dok smo kao djeca odabirali naša imaginarna zanimanja. Zamisli samo da nam se svi snovi ostvare i da možemo reći, kada nas pitaju jednog zimskog dana naših života, jesmo li ispunili sve naše želje i umjesto riječi za nas govori naš osmijeh i jedan zlatan zub, dar slučajnog prolaznika. I dok ćemo gledati naše unuke koji ne razumiju svo to komešanje oko naših kreveta i gledaju u čudu nastalu tišini, sjetiti ćemo se naših dana i sjetno pogledati na kalendar na zidu i pitati se kamo je svo to vrijeme otišlo. Naboranih lica, spojeni na aparate koji dišu umjesto nas, pitat ćemo se da li je sve to bilo vrijedno, sva ta trka sa vremenom i idejama. I ako smo napravili barem jednu stvar dobro zamislit ćemo se u boljem mjestu od ovog, makar nam je i tu dobro. Na stoliću pokraj našeg kreveta će biti crno bijela slika neke davno izgubljene ljubavi a pokraj okvira jedan običan prsten, bez ikakvih dragulja i natpisa. Bit će to najljepša tišina naših života.
Neki stranci, čija imena više ni ne pamtimo, polagat će cvijeće uz naš lijes i sjetno govoriti o prošlosti i sjećat će nas se u najljepšem izdanju, onom kojim smo lomili srca drugih i osvajali ona koja smo htjeli, nošeni alkoholnim parama i slučajnim smiješkom. Bili smo zaljubljeni jedno u drugo nekad davno, još kad se nismo znali i jedini trag su imena koja su izblijedila. Zamisli da smo opet na pragu trona koji nam pripada, makar on pripada svima. I sve naše bitke, od koji spominjemo samo one dobivene, su imale koristi u nekom drugom svijetu, kada je viteštvo još nešto značilo. I premda smo ponekad znali skrenuti na neki krivi put vjerujemo u naše anđeli koji nas vode svojim nevidljivom tragom, poput tragova kočenja na novom asfaltu, još jednom znaku mladosti koji smo poklonili nekom vremenu. Sjeti se samo kako je bilo nekad kad smo gradili imaginarne kule od vjetra i postavljali granice između kuća, smo zato jer smo htjeli kopirati naše uzore od kojih su, barem većina, postali nešto što nikad ne želimo biti. Svi idoli su uvijek promašeni, a to znaju i oni sami pa bježe čim vide da ih netko uzdiže u visine.
Sutra ću i ja postati idol nekom mladom stvorenju i makar ću mu govoriti da ne ponavlja moje korake jer su oni moji i samo moji, on neće htjeti znati za moje riječi i prebirat će po njima kao po klaviru i pokušavat pogoditi pravi ton, onaj zbog kojeg je sve što ja radim u skladu. I neće ni htjeti znati za sve noćne more i prisilna buđenja, za sve podočnjake koji su nestali pod puderom kada sam ih htio sakriti od svijeta. A modrice neka ostanu tamo gdje im je i mjesto, negdje između sna i stvarnosti, prekrivene velom tajne. I jedno kad ostarim pričat ću samo probrane stvari i hraniti se na vlastitoj prošlosti poput vampira, te jedinstvene životinje. I sjetit ću se svih ljubavi koji su prošle kroz moje ruke i onih rijetkih koje sam uspio uhvatiti na trenutak i prisiliti da podijelimo barem danas, još dok sam ih tražio.
Zamisli da se sretnemo sutra, sa zgužvanim rukama, i pozdravimo kao da nam je dvadeset, makar moje srce više ne može podnijeti napor kada te dižem od tla kao u stara dobra vremena.

I'm tired today and my wings are naked. the cold air
is going through my hands and i can't fly. not
today... and there are story's i could write and there
are worlds i want to see and offer them to everyone
else just like before when i used all of my energy for
dreaming. i had a lot of fuel back then and i could
still hear the beating sound of my heart. it sounded
like war drums and the world was my battlefield where
i joined hands with the likes of me, barely knowing
where to stand or to begin. we fought the wars and
walked on children's corpses. the price was set to
high from the start and the goals were imaginary. To
think we could win was the biggest illusion of them
all, a mixture of dreams and nightmares. but still we
stood tall in the valleys and on the mountains,
holding our guns hi in the air, where only birds could
take them away from us. and still, we managed to get
blood on them. we didn't hold them hi enough... and as
our flesh endured the mysteries of our imaginary
battles our family cried each evening holding the
pictures of their lost children. it's not the war that
changes people; it's the experience, its the
adrenaline that rushed with your blood, forcing you to
go further, bolder, better to places you never would
go. and when the first guns shoot blasts through the
air and makes a lasting scar, the sensations calm down
for a brief second as they are gathering it's
strength. i'm tired today, as i killed to many people.

I found out that all words are sad. It's the new definition of language, based on the modern man. It's never the same. No matter what we write and no matter how we feel when we write it, words have lost all meaning. Our modern society lost its compassion, that one thing that made us human. These are times for cheap tragedy and one-day news, where newspapers headlines look like they never change. Titles like "Train kills 3 in bizarre accident" or "Girl held captive for 8 years" are an everyday thing. We are a media driven society based on cheap trills and false icons. In our entire development we forgot how it feels to laugh from our hearts and what it means to love. We lost our way in between all our money accounts and 4 star restaurants, places you visit to be seen no matter how the food tastes like. And deep inside you know that your grandma cooks better than the rest of them, but she's not in the news. She's old and the modern man doesn't like old. It makes us feel vulnerable and that makes us feel afraid. We are a modern society where time is everything and success most important. we are a modern society where old traditions don't work anymore, pushed in the back rooms of our past, staying hidden from the world until somebody doesn't stumble upon it and makes it trendy again. We are a modern society, based on definitions and ever changing trends. To be and to belong has become our priority, no matter what the cost will be. We won't be around to pay the bill. It's a effort driven world, this world, and we are poorer for it. It's a modern man world, but it comes with the price of our humanity.

And the way it is, he could have used all the air in the world and it still wouldn't matter. Not to him. And he could have taken all the money in all the banks and still he would be poor. And then again, he had excellent days just laying in the uncut grass at his grandmother's back yard. It reminded him of his past, when he was just a kid and all he had to do was smile. And it reminded him of his grandpa, whom he never quiet got. But its too late now, I guess. And the way it is, he knew from the start that he didn't quite manage to take control of things. They took a life of their own. But nobody got that. He was the out-of-control one. He was making all the wrong steps. And the way it is, it was his fault for not trying to make something more out of it. He had stories and all he had to do is tell them to the world. It was his first day in a suit and he already hated the thing. It just wasn't him. 'It doesn't speak to me' he used to say. 'I look in the mirror and I see a different person. And if I cant be me, then what is the point of life?!' he loved to be the drama queen, often trying to find a scene from a film in real life, driving around and looking for a glimpse of Bukowski or Miller.

Slushaona: Leonard Cohen - Famous Blue Coat
Cithaona: Charles Bukowski - Ljubav i ludilo u L.A.
Pushiona: plavi Drum, odstajao mjesec dana na propuhu
Gledaona: Wong Kar Wai - in the mood for love
Pjevaona:
And what can I tell you my brother, my killer
What can I possibly say?
I guess that I miss you, I guess I forgive you
I'm glad you stood in my way.

Willard Grant Conspiracy;Let It Roll (2006); Let It Roll

Between a rusty old cage
And a crown made of old
There’s a paper mache
Cross painted gold
Up on the hill
Wild flowers still bloom
Red poppies like tears
Beneath a cold dead moon
Let it roll

There’s one for the taking
Down by the riverside
She’ll never be thinking
It was her lover’s pride
There’s one for the rolling
Down off of the ledge
Into the briars
To sleep with the dead
Let it roll

Hung up in sunrise
With a crown made of thorns
The windows are mirrored
Like the eyes of the lord
Between the high water
And a black-tooth nail
One night of whiskey
Is worth a lifetime in hell
Let it roll

Nothing for nothing
Your God’s a pretender
There’s no room in Heaven
Now or hereafter
There’s nothing to dying
Except a ropes soft whisper
I did what I did
And I’ll do it again
We weep and we moan
We weep and we moan
Give me a stack of your best bibles
I’ll raise my right hand and
Let it roll

Oh Comely

Your father made fetuses
With flesh licking ladies
While you and your mother
Were asleep in the trailer park
Thunderous sparks from the dark of the stadiums
The music and medicine you needed for comforting
So make all your fat fleshy fingers to moving
And pluck all your silly strings
And bend all your notes for me
Soft silly music is meaningful magical
The movements were beautiful
All in your ovaries
All of them milking with green fleshy flowers
While powerful pistons were sugary sweet machines
Smelling of semen all under the garden
Was all you were needing when you still believed in me

okruzen sam mladim nadama ove drzave, jos uvijek slijepih zbog nagle pojave sunca u zadnjih par dana. Postavljaju ista pitanja, te sjene buducih ljudi. Ugavnom, nitko nije savrsen.

i kada pomislis da je sve gotovo, dodje ti darko i veli daj mi molim te nabavi neke informacije o ovome cudu zvanom repozitorij sadrzaja na netu i mora biti u phpu jer mi se neda slagati druge server sem onih koje imam vec poslozene za nase potrebe a ti jadan, nenaspavan jer su ti proslog vikenda ukrali jedan sat tvog malog i neznacajnog zivota ga samo pogledas i pitas jel ti to mene zajebavas ili ti je samo drago da me vidis ovako rano u jutro sa podocnjacima vecim od tvog kurca? a skine hlace, uzme svoj kurcic u ruku i dokaze mi da je ipak veci od mojih podocnjaka...

Willie The Pimp
Vocals: Captain Beefheart

I'm a little pimp with my hair gassed back
Pair a khaki pants with my shoe shined black

Got a little lady ... walk the street
Tellin' all the boy that she cain't be beat

Twenny dollah bill ( I can set you straight )
Meet me onna corner boy'n don't be late

Man in a suit with a bow-tie neck
Wanna buy a grunt with a third party check

Standin' onna porch of the Lido Hotel
Floozies in the lobby love the way I sell:

HOT MEAT
HOT RATS
HOT CATS
HOT RITZ
HOT ROOTS
HOT SOOTS
HOT ZITZ
HOT MEAT
HOT RATS
HOT CATS
HOT ZITZ
HOT ROOTS
HOT SOOTS