{"id":822,"date":"2013-04-19T23:22:10","date_gmt":"2013-04-19T21:22:10","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/?page_id=822"},"modified":"2013-05-03T02:18:00","modified_gmt":"2013-05-03T00:18:00","slug":"15-in-a-foreign-town","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/teksty\/teksty-oryginalne\/teksty-ph-solo\/15-in-a-foreign-town\/","title":{"rendered":"15. In A Foreign Town"},"content":{"rendered":"

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

Here it comes up on the screen,
\nthe propaganda of the military-industrial machine.
\nBy now we find there’s little choice:
\nwhen our masters tell us „smile” we rejoice.
\nWith the nuclear shield safely in place
\nwe’re assured of the survival of the human race.<\/p>\n

The earth is flat and pigs can fly –
\nswallow hard and believe the lies.
\nIn these alleys all are blind:
\nskittles fall for the dreams of humankind.<\/p>\n

And nuclear power is safe as hell –
\nSwallow hard, young William Tell.
\nThe earth is flat and pigs can fly –
\nIf you swallow hard you believe the lies.<\/p>\n

In the banks the deals are made –
\nof course there’s no profit in lending theThird World aid.
\nIf the larder shells are bare let the people eat cake
\nand thank the governments for the air.
\nMeanwhile, in the cells, secret police
\nchampion freedom, offer justice, keep the peace.<\/p>\n

The Pope talks to God, the Ayatollah too –
\nswallow hard and believe it true.
\nThe earth is flat and pigs can fly –
\nif you swallow hard you’ll believe the lies.
\nIt’s a hemlock world.<\/p>\n

It’s a hemlock world that we must drink –
\nswallow hard and don’t try to think.
\nIt’s a hemlock world that we all face –
\nswallow hard on the bitter taste,
\non the aftertaste.
\nIt’s a hemlock world.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\nInvisible Ink<\/strong><\/p>\n

Follow the instructions,
\nthe envelope is sealed:
\nwe’re waiting on an update,
\nsomething like the reinvention of the wheel.
\nWho made the world so complicated?
\nWho made the watchword wait and see?
\nI wake myself up, shake myself up,
\ntake myself apart but still can’t see…
\nthe esoteric is lost on me.<\/p>\n

Follow the instructions
\nthey speak in many tongues,
\nin unlimited edition
\nand the last step on the ladder is the bottom rung.
\nThe diagram is so confusing,
\nanagrammatical the mystery;
\nI wake myself up, shake myself up,
\nbreak myself apart and find in me
\nthe esoteric machinery,
\nthe esoteric invisibly.<\/p>\n

Follow the instructions,
\ntell us what you think;
\nthey lose something in translation,
\nthey might as well be printed in invisible ink.<\/p>\n

Esoteric machinery,
\nthe esoteric invisibly;
\nthe esoteric is lost on me,
\nthe esoteric invisibility.<\/p>\n

Who made the world so complicated ?
\nWho put the alpha in the ABC ?
\nI wake myself up, shake myself up,
\nbreak myself apart but finally
\nthe esoteric is lost on me.
\nThe esoteric, no time to think,
\nThe esoteric, written in invisible ink.<\/p>\n

In invisible ink
\nindivisible link
\nin invisible ink.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\nSci-Finance (revisited)<\/strong><\/p>\n

You got some shares, it’s a capital venture,
\nyou hedge your bets with a gilt-edged bond,
\nyou’re stretched out tight by the terms of debenture,
\nthe game is on.<\/p>\n

You got a fortune on paper,
\nhow it shines on the VDU!
\nThe simple truth is that sooner or later
\nthe market plays you.<\/p>\n

There goes the daylight!
\nNight comes on the city so soon.
\nIn the dance of the typical capitalists
\nwhat piper plays the tune ?<\/p>\n

Money’s ideal, money’s power,
\nmoney’s the drive that’s more than skin-deep,
\nhard at work through the twenty-four hours –
\noh, but money’s never cheap.<\/p>\n

You made some pretty deals, I hear you say,
\nJudas and Faust are squeaky clean…
\nwhen the last of the deals have been cleared away
\nwhat comes up on the screen ?
\nThere goes the daylight –
\nnight comes on the city so soon.
\nIn the dance of the typical capitalists
\nwhat piper plays the tune ?
\nOnly the money.<\/p>\n

But the deal includes us:
\nWe put ourselves into the stocks;
\nwhen we built up the temple of the money-god
\nwe opened up Pandora’s box.
\nThere goes the daylight,
\nnow there is silence on the floor,
\nonly money-computers chatter privately,
\nno people any more.<\/p>\n

No people any more,
\nonly the money, only the money,
\nIs that what you want?
\nIs that it?
\nThere goes the daylight.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\nThis Book<\/strong><\/p>\n

Away from the past, this chance is the last,
\nwe are changing completely,
\nwe are moving the feast, we are motion.
\nI’ve seen you become the bride of the sun,
\nyou surrender so sweetly,
\nsacrificing yourself to devotion.<\/p>\n

This book is ended and I put it down,
\nthis book is ended and I put it down,
\nI’m saved, I’m saving for the future.
\nThis book is ended and I put it down,
\nfind I’m befriended in a foreign town,
\nI’m saved, I’m sailing for the future.<\/p>\n

But only yesterday night
\nI stood in the pouring rain, shouting at the thunder:
\nI said „Lord, I’m starting to understand the hidden mystery.”
\nLord, the compass falls in my hand,
\nI can sail to the far horizon…<\/p>\n

Could you conceive a mirror
\nwhere you could never see yourself ?<\/p>\n

Away from the past, the iconoclasts,
\nwe are changing completely,
\nwe are breaking the mould, we are rapture.
\nI’ve seen you astride the wind and the tide,
\nmy dark angel, you greet me with a samurai sword,
\nclose the chapter….<\/p>\n

This book is ended and I put it down,
\nfind I’m befriended in a foreign town,
\nI’m here, but I’m nearer to the future.<\/p>\n

But only yesterday night …<\/p>\n

This book is ended and I put down,
\nfind I’m befriended in a foreign town,
\nthis book is ended and I put it down.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\nTime to Burn<\/strong><\/p>\n

Time to burn, we could talk all the problems through….
\nAre the promises still unbroken,
\ndo the spoken words still ring true ?
\nOh, and where are you ?<\/p>\n

Time to burn, wakes and weddings, celestial choirs,
\nand while one hand shakes on the bargain
\nsee the other stoke the suttee pyre;
\nso we’re all on fire,
\nburning for tomorrow.<\/p>\n

So much time wish- and hoping,
\nsoon the future will come
\nwith a bridal wreath for the wedding
\nin the hands of the prodigal son.
\nSo much left undone,
\nhere we are with time to burn.<\/p>\n

So much time wishful thinking,
\nall the whitest of lies
\nwith the prodigal caught at the border
\nand the order of service awry.
\nNo time for goodbyes,
\nwill we ever start to learn ?<\/p>\n

Time to burn, wakes and weddings become confused,
\nall the faces over-familiar
\nin the whirlwind of deja-vu…
\nOh, but where are you ?<\/p>\n

Time to burn, all our lifelines are gathered round
\nwith a speech from the back of a postcard
\nall the memories free in one bound.
\nFree, and gone to ground,
\nfree, and gone forever.
\nFree, and gone to ground,
\nso I will remember
\nso much lost and found.
\nHere we are with time to burn.<\/p>\n

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

Here’s a sensation I wouldn’t trade –
\npinpoint in the onrush,
\ndancing to the rhythm of the wiper blades.
\nUp ahead on the autobahn
\nheadlights like a lava stream;
\nup ahead in the distance is where we’re going,
\nwhere we will have been.<\/p>\n

Back in the motor, keep going overnight;
\nwe’ve got no certain destination
\nbut for all we know we might.
\nSo get back in the motor, let’s drive it anyplace…
\nbetter to travel hopefully
\nthan to arrive, in any case.<\/p>\n

While you check out the map-book,
\njust like a novel that’s all out of joint,
\nour passport into anonymity…
\nstick a pin into the vanishing point.
\nI could drive for hours,
\ndon’t even need to know the way to go;
\nI could drive forever
\nwith some classical music on the radio.<\/p>\n

Back in the motor, back into overdrive
\nand if we travel hopefully then we’ll know we’re alive.
\nGet back in das auto, let’s drive it anyplace,
\nbetter to travel hopefully than to arrive in any case.<\/p>\n

We could drive forever,
\nwe could drive forever,
\nI caught you thinking, I bet you were,
\nthat we could drive forever
\nin the never-never land of the metaphor.<\/p>\n

Back in the motor, keep going overnight;
\nWe’ve got no key to the highway
\nbut for all we know we might as well
\nget back in the motor, let’s drive it anyplace,
\nbetter to travel hopefully than to arrive in any case.
\nSo get back in the motor, let’s get on with the drive
\nand if we travel hopefully then we know we’re alive.<\/p>\n

Get back in the motor.
\nLet’s get back in the motor,
\nget in tune with the motor,
\nget back.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\nVote Brand x<\/strong><\/p>\n

Here’s the modern political man, for sure he’s nobody’s fool,
\nbelieves in media coverage as a promotional tool.
\nTrust in him because he’s got the right face;
\njust in case you harbour doubt
\nhere is a slogan to tout.<\/p>\n

He’s such a principled man, all heart, ruled by his brain:
\nYou’ve seen theTV commercials, you’ve seen the poster campaign,
\nyou’ve seen the ads in the papers, there’s nothing else to explain.
\nJust some words to maximise the market,
\njust a message that will reach the target,
\npromises that turn to dust.
\nHe is a man you can trust.
\nThis is a man of the people in politics now.<\/p>\n

Politics now, it’s just like selling soap powder,
\nno money down – you lucky punters –
\nfull guarantee,
\nfive year’s trial free !<\/p>\n

He is a man you can trust.
\nBy dint of market research he knows which truths he should tell;
\nhe’s got the mark of conviction, it serves the agency well;
\nyes, he’s on course for election in politics now.
\nTrust the propagandists’ manifesto,
\ntrust the politician with the promo,
\ntrust the ads to buy your vote.<\/p>\n

Vote for brand x, it’s just like selling soap powder,
\nwhatever next ? You lucky punters,
\nfull guarantee…
\nWhatever next ?
\nShow trials by decree….<\/p>\n

The show trials are free,
\nthe show trials come free,
\nvote for brand x.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\nSun City Nightlife<\/strong><\/p>\n

To the city beat on a treacherous curve,
\nup upon the high wire you’re observed –
\nyou live as you live, you’ll get what you deserve:
\nHigh life, dig those highlights,
\nsun city nightlife:
\nyou’ll be like a moth consumed by a flame.<\/p>\n

It’s a rich man’s world, kick those beggars and fools;
\nConspicuous consumption the only rule,
\nbut the law of retribution will be terribly cruel.<\/p>\n

Oh, but you mustn’t stop to think about your place upon the planet;
\nif you did, you might steel yourself away
\nand it doesn’t really matter if the show goes up tomorrow.
\nAfter all, this petty place is day to day.
\nHighlights of the highlife,
\ndancing at midnight,
\ndancing all moral existence away.<\/p>\n

Nightlife, highlights, highlife, twilight….
\nOh, you mustn’t ever think about you place upon the planet,
\ndon’t look further than the bottom of a drink,
\ndon’t ever think about the way you’ll feel tomorrow,
\ndon’t stop dancing or the boat will sink…
\nall in all it’s gone before you blink.<\/p>\n

Highlights of the high life,
\nsun city nightlife,
\nyou’ll be like a moth consumed by flame….
\nTwilight of the high life,
\nchimes at midnight…
\nyou’re still dancing all moral existence away.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\nThe Play’s the Thing<\/strong><\/p>\n

How could he know so much ?
\nHow could he bear such knowledge ?
\nHow could he dare to write it in the plays ?
\nWhat is it Shakespeare’d say
\nif he came back today ?
\nSurely he’d recognize these mortal coils.<\/p>\n

How do we carry on ?
\nNo-one knows where they fit in,
\nno-one knows who they are
\nor where they’ve been.
\nWhat does the writer mean ?
\nHow do we play this scene ?
\nWhat didn’t Shakespeare know that we do now ?<\/p>\n

Stiffen the sinews,
\nwear hard-favour’d rage,
\nall history’s drama,
\nthe world is a stage.<\/p>\n

„There is a history in all men’s lives,
\nfiguring the nature of the times deceas’d;
\nThe which observ’d, a man may prophesy,
\nwith a near aim, of the main chance of things
\nas yet not come to life, which in their seeds
\nand weak beginnings lie intreasured.
\nSuch things become the hatch and brood of time…”<\/p>\n

Oh, but the show goes on,
\non through the seven ages –
\nThat of the world must mirror man’s, in fact.
\nHere comes the seventh act,
\nsee how the mirror’s cracked,
\nhere comes sans everything for humankind.<\/p>\n

To capture the conscience
\nof nations and kings
\nall history’s drama –
\nThe play’s the thing, the play’s the thing, the play’s the thing.<\/p>\n

How could he know so much ?<\/p>\n

(The quotation is from „Henry IV” Pt. 2, Act III, Scene I)<\/i><\/p>\n

<\/a>
\nUnder Cover Names<\/strong><\/p>\n

No thanks for the memory, no thanks at all,
\nno way we can wipe the slate or contrive escape
\nfrom the names we’re called.
\nNo thanks for the memory, here it comes again,
\nthis life running on the spot, though we hide a lot
\nwith our cover names.<\/p>\n

We can no more change the past than shed our skins.<\/p>\n

But we keep on thinking that we might go someplace
\nwhere not a soul knows what has gone before,
\nwith such headfuls of self-accusation
\nthat we don’t even know our own names any more.<\/p>\n

No thanks for the memory,
\nno thanks.<\/p>\n

Call them by a different name and turn about –
\nwe can no more change our spots than wash them out.<\/p>\n

No thanks for the memory, locked in the frame.
\nNo way we can change the pattern of things that happened
\nunder cover names.<\/p>\n

And we keep on skirting round the true confession,
\nwith fresh identities and best-laid plans;
\nAnd we keep on working to outreach the shadow,
\nbut the shadow will outrun the man.
\nWith such headfuls of self-accusation,
\nthat no pseudonyms can hide our shame,
\nlost in a jungle of our own creation,
\nlost in a labyrinth of cover names….
\nWe can no more change the past than live again.
\nWe can no more shed our skins than know our real names.<\/p>\n

Nobody knows our real name,
\nnobody knows their real name,
\nwe hide under cover names….
\nNo thanks for the memory.<\/p>\n

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

The jokes are everywhere,
\nthe secret deal’s complete –
\nMoney talks, some good advice,
\nthe politicians run like clockwork mice,
\nall fits the masterplan.<\/p>\n

A database on the telephone
\nand cable sunshine floods your home –
\nso, times are good ?
\nFat cats get fatter day by day,
\nthose who sit it out will make their way,
\nso things can’t be that bad.<\/p>\n

Ooh, a smile has set upon this land,
\nooh, a selfish grin of ignorance;
\nOoh, you simply have to play the game.
\nThe joke’s on us:
\nthis is more and more ridiculous.<\/p>\n

Everything’s great,
\nobjectivity taboo;
\nself-satisfaction pumping up
\nminor achievements to cover up
\nall the failures and mistakes
\nand if you don’t smile along
\nyou’re a public enemy, you don’t belong…
\nThe black lists are in the mail.
\nThere isn’t any room for doubt,
\nwe’ll all be equal when we share it out
\nbut outsiders will get nothing.<\/p>\n

(Original German text by H Gronemeyer,
\ntranslated P Hammill)<\/p>\n

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

Hemlock Here it comes up on the screen, the propaganda of the military-industrial machine. By now we find there’s little choice: when our masters tell us „smile” we rejoice. With the nuclear shield safely in place we’re assured of the … Czytaj dalej →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":659,"parent":519,"menu_order":15,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"sidebar-page.php","meta":{"_sitemap_exclude":false,"_sitemap_priority":"","_sitemap_frequency":"","footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-822","page","type-page","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/822","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=822"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/822\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1398,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/822\/revisions\/1398"}],"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=822"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}