{"id":780,"date":"2013-04-19T02:34:39","date_gmt":"2013-04-19T00:34:39","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/?page_id=780"},"modified":"2013-05-03T02:09:01","modified_gmt":"2013-05-03T00:09:01","slug":"6-over","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/teksty\/teksty-oryginalne\/teksty-ph-solo\/6-over\/","title":{"rendered":"6. Over"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/a>
\nCrying Wolf<\/strong><\/p>\n

You turn out the lights and sit alone,
\ntrying to pretend that it’s anguish,
\nstart at the ring of a telephone,
\nthrow down all your food at the banquet,
\nkeep a close eye on all you own,
\nwhile leaving it all to languish….
\nIs this what makes you happy?
\nIs this what brings you joy?
\nYour excuses are so crappy…
\nsilly boy.<\/p>\n

You take all the love and throw it aside
\nto wallow in your sorrow,
\nexpect everyone to know how you feel inside,
\nto forgive and forget come tomorrow;
\nrepaying all your debts with uncommon pride
\nbut denying that you ever borrowed….
\nIs this what makes you perfect?
\nIs this what makes you free?
\nJust how long did you rehearse it,
\nor does it just come naturally?<\/p>\n

Crying wolf from the depth of your sheep’s heart,
\ncrying fire from the depth of the well
\nin an endless parade of repeat starts,
\njust how long will it last – can you tell?<\/p>\n

Until all your friends and lovers
\nare simply bored with the pretence?
\nIt’ll be too late then to discover
\njust exactly what you meant
\nand what was true
\nand what was false…
\nthe wolf turned into human,
\nthe killer with remorse.<\/p>\n

Crying pain as though that should be pleasure,
\ncrying anger as though that should be revenge,
\ncrying sorrow as though that were a treasure –
\nyour treasure will find you in the end.<\/p>\n

When all of your friends have gone away,
\nunwilling to put up with the danger
\nthat lies in each spiteful word you say,
\nyou’ll be left, a greying wolf in a manger
\nand when you’ve raised your last howl
\nand destroyed all that you can
\nwith rotting teeth an slack jowls
\nyou’ll be left a lonely man.
\nAnd when it’s nearly finished
\nand you know the end is near
\nwith true sorrow undiminished
\nthere’ll be no-one left to hear….
\nYour desperate cries,
\nthey all come out as bleats:
\nyou thought you were a wolf-man,
\nbut you’re really
\njust a sheep.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\nAutumn<\/strong><\/p>\n

So here we are, alone –
\nour children have grown up and moved away.
\nliving their own lives, they say…
\nit all seems very strange to me.<\/p>\n

I don’t understand their ways:
\nour children amaze me all the time
\nand I often wonder why they make me feel
\nso sad and suddenly old.<\/p>\n

Now we’re left with an empty home,
\nfrom our nest all the birds have flown for foreign skies.
\nWe’re discarded, of no further use,
\nthough we gave our kids all our youth and all our lives –
\nwe really tried.<\/p>\n

Now there’s only my wife and me;
\nwe used to have a family – now that’s gone
\nand only memories linger on…
\nit all seems very wrong to me.<\/p>\n

To our sorrows they were quite deaf
\nand as soon as they could they left us to our tears.
\nWe always tried to teach what was good –
\nyes, we gave our kids all we could through all the years.<\/p>\n

So here we are at last;
\nthe time has gone so fast and so have my dreams.
\nI simply don’t know what it all means,
\nthis pointless passage through the night,
\nthis autumn-time, this walk upon the water….<\/p>\n

I wonder how long
\nit will be till this song
\nis sung by our own sons and daughters?<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\nTime Heals<\/strong><\/p>\n

Thinking back, it seems that I
\ncan lie beside you as I never truly did,
\nin afterglow –
\nno afterwords at all.
\nOnly writing love songs when it’s gone and dead;
\nonly paying words out in strings of half-forgotten sentiments…
\nI mean…
\nI meant…
\nI never really quite could say the way it was.<\/p>\n

The first time that we met I said 'I bet that she’s the one’,
\nbut I was talking to myself then, as always.
\nAs time went by our steps entwined, unwritten lines drew taut
\nand I tried to find a way to make it all safe….
\nInto the play – what a production! –
\ninto the days and ever more suction:
\nyou hold me close, but hold me farther
\naway from yourself – I make me a martyr,
\nfor pain and love go hand in hand….
\nAnd hand in hand go you and my friend,
\nyou are his and I am yours and just cannot evade you;
\nmy days a dream, my nights unseemly,
\nstolen moments all I live for,
\nbut theft is no way to persuade you
\nto come with me, leave him behind you;
\nmy hurtful eyes try to remind you
\nit’s all I can do to keep from screaming
\n'I love you, I love you!’ – I wish I was dreaming,
\nbut the steps we take all leave footprints….<\/p>\n

Sooner or later the whole thing will be blown:
\nyou will leave him or I’ll be left here, alone.
\nEither way someone loses someone
\nbut I won’t mind that, I just would quite like to know
\nwho we love the most –
\nwell, I guess that’s ourselves.<\/p>\n

The days are strange, at night we’re strangers,
\nlie in bed and lie inside our heads,
\nwe come no closer than as dancers.
\nYour eyes are change, your presence danger,
\nwon’t look me in the face and yet
\nyou kiss and make up the answer
\nto all the questions that fly unanswered, unreasoned –
\ndeath in the sky, death in the season.
\nIf you leave me now, it might nearly kill me….
\nRemember me?
\nRemember we three?<\/p>\n

It all seemed so important at the time,
\nwe came so close to wrecking all our lives,
\nand now it’s all just song lines.
\nTime heals,
\ntime heals –
\noh, but I still bear the weals.<\/p>\n

Thinking back, it seems that I
\ncan lie beside you as I never truly did,
\nin afterglow –
\nno afterwords at all.
\nOnly writing love songs when it’s gone and dead,
\nonly paying words out: streams of half-forgotten sentiments…
\nI mean…
\nI meant…
\nI never really quite could say
\nthe way it was.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\nAlice (letting go)<\/strong><\/p>\n

When you told me that you loved me
\nI had no reason to doubt it
\nso I went about my life in such a selfish way
\nand never really thought about it.
\nOh do I have to let go?
\nOh I had my chance and I’ve blown it,
\n’cause I loved you so much all these years
\nand somewhere in myself, between my pride and fear
\njust couldn’t find a way to show it.<\/p>\n

I know it doesn’t give you any joy
\nto give me such pain
\nbut you’re in love with him now, my old friend –
\nI know all about that, there’s no need to explain
\nbut why do I have to say goodbye
\nwhen I love you still, and can only feel that I’m dying?
\nStill, every word I say just seems to come out wrong
\nand none of them deny the fact that you are gone
\nand that I’m left here, crying.<\/p>\n

What’s the good of songs anyway?
\nThey’re just exercises in solitude.
\nI should have been ready for today –
\nI always prayed you wouldn’t go,
\nbut I suppose I always knew you would.<\/p>\n

I suppose you say to him now
\n„I know that some day you’ll leave me”
\njust like you did to me, and I’d deny it,
\nbut you wouldn’t believe me.
\nOoh do I have to let go of you
\nooh I don’t think that I can do it –
\nyou’re always going to be the guardian of my soul,
\nand I’ll always have a part of you to call my own,
\nhow stupid that I never proved it.<\/p>\n

Oh I know I’ll never let go
\noh because I don’t want to be just your friend.
\nWe spent seven years together in our own way,
\nI can’t believe the story ends like this today….<\/p>\n

Wherever you are do you really think so, Alice?<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\nThis Side of the Looking-Glass<\/strong><\/p>\n

The stars in the heavens still shine
\nup above me:
\nhow lovely they’d seem
\nif you were with me
\nbut you’re gone through the looking-glass
\nand I am left to pass these nights alone.<\/p>\n

I’m lost, I’m dumb, I’m blind,
\nI am drunk with sadness,
\nsunk by madness,
\nthe wave overwhelms me,
\nthe mirror repels me,
\nthe echo of your laugh
\ndrifts through the looking-glass
\nand I am alone.<\/p>\n

No friendship, no comfort, no future, no home,
\nthe past lingers with me:
\nyou’re all the love I’ve ever known
\nand without you I’m nothing
\nbut empty and silent,
\nreflecting on all that I’ve lost.
\nI let you slip away so soon.<\/p>\n

Can you hear me? This is my song:
\nI am dying; you are gone.<\/p>\n

These words are not enough to save my soul,
\nthey just mock me from the mirror.
\nI’m cold and I’m yearning,
\nI’ve told you I’m burning,
\nmy eyes can’t stand the light…
\nlike a stray dog in the night
\nI’ll shuffle off alone.<\/p>\n

We all make our futures
\nbut I have lost mine;
\nI’m hoping for a miracle
\nbut finding no sign….<\/p>\n

The stars in their constellations,
\neach one just sadly flickers and falls…
\nwithout you they mean nothing at all.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\nBetrayed<\/strong><\/p>\n

When I began I was full of altruistic dreams,
\nbelieved in princes and princesses, kings and queens –
\nnow I find they’re all human inside,
\nall bitterness and pride,
\nso why shouldn’t I be like that too?
\nIt seems that I’ve forgotten all I tried so hard to learn;
\nit seems there’s not an ounce of love or trust
\nanywhere in the world.<\/p>\n

Friends – they’re all harbouring knives
\nto embed in your back out of revenge, or spite,
\nor indifference, or lack of other things to do –
\nin the end just who’s going to be a friend for you
\nwhen they kick you in the guts just as your hand holds out the pearl?
\nIt seems that there is nothing left but
\nhatred and lust in the world.<\/p>\n

I don’t give a damn anymore – I’ve only wound up betrayed.
\nIt’s all been absolutely worthless –
\nall the efforts I’ve made to be gentle and kind
\nare repaid with contempt,
\ndegraded by sympathy and worthless kindness
\nand love that isn’t meant.
\nI’m through with joy and company, I’ve done with pretty words,
\nbetrayed – there’s no hiding-place
\nanywhere in the world.
\nI’ve nothing left to fight for except making my passion heard –
\nI don’t believe in anything
\nanywhere in the world.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\n(On Tuesdays she used to do) Yoga<\/strong><\/p>\n

On Tuesdays, she used to do yoga
\nwhile I’d sit and watch the box
\nin a vegetable way,
\nbut always ready to say
\nto myself that I was an artist,
\nimplying that she was not.<\/p>\n

It’s funny the way that self-pity
\ncan take over from self-esteem –
\nwell, I was the prince of pride,
\nand though I’d cheat I never lied,
\nas if that were enough to make her happy,
\nas if that could satisfy her dreams.<\/p>\n

Too late now to say that I’m so sorry,
\ntoo late to say that I can change and mend
\nthe things that hurt.
\nShe didn’t need to worry,
\nshe always knew I’d get there in the end.<\/p>\n

Now I’m tying myself up in contortions,
\ndon’t know if yoga will do me any good.
\nIt’s about time I tried,
\nthough I’d rather be inside from the cold,
\nstudying tantra –
\nstill, I never did that when I could.<\/p>\n

I never did the things that really mattered,
\nthere seemed to be some key I couldn’t find
\nto unlock myself;
\nI could have done it with her help,
\nbut I was too busy scrabbling for each moment –
\nnow I don’t know what I did with all the time.<\/p>\n

Sometimes I’d play the wild rover,
\nsometimes I’d just get smashed all day…
\non Tuesdays she used to do yoga,
\non Tuesday she went away.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\nLost and Found<\/strong><\/p>\n

(Even the wolf can learn,
\neven the sheep can turn,
\neven the frog become at last the prince.)<\/p>\n

No more imagined insults
\nand no more bloated pride –
\nI’ll see you at the wedding,
\nI’ll see you on the other side
\nand I’ll hold my peace forever
\nbut I’ll hold my passion more…
\nI’ll be holding the door
\nand waiting for the princess –
\nI could say I’m waiting for the world
\nbut when it comes right down to it
\nI’m simply waiting for the girl.
\nOn through the ring of changes
\nI’ll be at my side in a single bound,
\nlost and found…
\nlooking to be lost and found.<\/p>\n

La Rossa extends her hands –
\nin the morning light the stigmata don’t show.
\nShe’s already up, making plans;
\nshe thinks it’s maybe time he ought to go.
\nAnd she’s friendly like it’s a service
\nbut she’s ringing round his head
\nthough he knows she has no further use for him
\nstill he feels like he’s raised from the dead.
\nOut to the cold grey daylight, never even wondering, of course,
\nif one moment of perfect passion is worth a lifetime of remorse.<\/p>\n

So it’s no more empty promises
\nand no more idle threats;
\nno more „if only”s
\nand no more „and yet”s;
\nno more wishes for the future,
\nno more denials of the past:
\nI’m free at last,
\nI’m in love at last.
\nI’m lost and found….<\/p>\n

(Put on your red dress, baby.
\n'Cause we’re going out tonight,
\nput on your high-heeled sneakers,
\nEverything’s going to be alright?)<\/p>\n

\"Przewi\u0144<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Crying Wolf You turn out the lights and sit alone, trying to pretend that it’s anguish, start at the ring of a telephone, throw down all your food at the banquet, keep a close eye on all you own, while … Czytaj dalej →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":659,"parent":519,"menu_order":6,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"sidebar-page.php","meta":{"_sitemap_exclude":false,"_sitemap_priority":"","_sitemap_frequency":"","footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-780","page","type-page","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/780","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=780"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/780\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":782,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/780\/revisions\/782"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/519"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/659"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=780"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}