{"id":826,"date":"2013-04-20T01:48:42","date_gmt":"2013-04-19T23:48:42","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/?page_id=826"},"modified":"2013-05-03T02:18:50","modified_gmt":"2013-05-03T00:18:50","slug":"16-out-of-water","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/teksty\/teksty-oryginalne\/teksty-ph-solo\/16-out-of-water\/","title":{"rendered":"16. Out Of Water"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/a>
\nEvidently Goldfish<\/strong><\/p>\n

Check the honesty of what’s on offer,
\ntrue detective or a fake fakir?
\nAll the evidence is circumstantial –
\nas mud the evidence is clear.
\nParanormal the investigation –
\nwhere do things go when they disappear?
\nAll the evidence has been trumped up…
\nas mud the evidence is clear,
\nI think we’re on to something here,
\nI think we’re into something,
\nI don’t know but maybe we’re all goldfish
\nin the mental sphere.<\/p>\n

Evidently goldfish,
\nnever questioning environment
\nself-evidently goldfish,
\nwe swim in circular
\nexperience.<\/p>\n

Church of logical deliberation,
\nschool of accidental wheels in gear,
\nsurface knowledge is a serious matter,
\na little consciousness is dangerous, dear;
\nall the evidence must be summed up –
\nas mud the evidence is clear,
\nI think we’re into something,
\nI don’t know but maybe
\nwe’re all goldfish in the mental sphere.<\/p>\n

Evidently goldfish
\nnever question their environment;
\nSelf-evidently goldfish,
\nwe swim in circular experience;
\nEvidently goldfish,
\nround and round and round and round
\nwithin our consciousness
\nin the mental sphere.<\/p>\n

As mud the evidence is clear.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\nNot the Man<\/strong><\/p>\n

There are so many questions,
\nthere are so many doubts –
\nthis is auto suggestion
\nyour spirit is giving out.
\nIf I offered my reasons
\nwould you give me a break?
\nNow it’s all open season,
\nno sense of give and take.<\/p>\n

You see I’m not the man I was….<\/p>\n

But if I’m not the man
\nthat you took me to be
\ndo I fade from your dreams,
\ndisappear from your memory?
\nLook at me:
\nif I’m not the man I was
\nthen who was he?<\/p>\n

There can be no returning
\nto the scene of the crime…
\nfor perfection you’re yearning –
\nsome romance, some foreign clime!
\nIs the memory explicit
\nunder strict rule of thumb?
\nIt was always implicit,
\nthis character I’ve become.<\/p>\n

But if I’m not the man
\nthat you took me to be
\ndo I fade from your dreams,
\ndisappear from your memory?
\nI remember it well,
\nI can guess what went wrong…
\nyou believed all those words
\nin the popular songs…
\nbut, if I’m not the man
\nthat you took me to be,
\ndid I walk in your dreams?
\nI’ve no idea who that person could be.<\/p>\n

Look at me:
\nIf I’m not the man I was, then who is he?<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\nNo Moon in the Water<\/strong><\/p>\n

So
\nif it’s just so then
\nwhere is it now when
\nI find the moment
\nuncertain?<\/p>\n

Broken water pail –
\nno moon in the water,
\ntry to hold it now.<\/p>\n

So
\nI want to hold on
\nreflection’s all gone,
\nno ego – so.<\/p>\n

Broken water pail –
\nno moon in the water,
\ntry to hold it now,
\nbroken water pail,
\nhold me in the moment,
\nno more ego now.<\/p>\n

I would
\ndrink the dregs of daylight,
\nbreak the bread of consciousness
\nand dream:
\ndream day for night,
\nnightfall around us,
\nwaking, dreaming,
\nawake to the dream.<\/p>\n

Broken water pail –
\nno moon in the water,
\ntry to hold it now,
\nhold me in the moment,
\nno more ego now,
\nno moon in the water,
\nno more ego now.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\nOur Oyster<\/strong><\/p>\n

This one’s authentic,
\nson of a gun,
\na soundtrack from China
\nin the universal tongue….<\/p>\n

The world is our oyster
\nto plunder at will,
\nthough the palate is jaded
\nby all but the thrill
\nof fish out of water,
\nlife in the raw…
\nwithout understanding
\nof what life’s worth fighting for.<\/p>\n

Out of universal language
\nsome stuff never translates –
\nthe reports come in clusters
\nbut for words it’s too late…
\nsix o’clock entertainment,
\ntears of anguish and rage…
\nin the zoos of the media
\nthe spirit of moment is caged.<\/p>\n

There’s only one language
\nthe whole world comprehends,
\nthere’s only one message
\nas the darkness descends….
\nDo you still have a question
\nor do you retract?
\nThere’s a whole world of difference
\nbetween the observer and the act.<\/p>\n

They’re playing World Music
\nin Tiananmen Square,
\nthey’re playing World Music
\nin Tiananmen Square,
\nthe whistle of bullets in the air.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\nSomething about Ysabel’s Dance<\/strong><\/p>\n

In the new hotel, on Fiesta Night,
\nthe staff are bored;
\nDonna Ysabel dances zombie-like,
\nthe guests applaud….
\nThe color is local, the tourists are tanned,
\nthe natives are restless
\nand everything’s second-hand.<\/p>\n

Places disappear, but the names
\nendure as alibis;
\nmemory’s hazy here, no-one’s really sure
\nof how time flies….
\nWell drunk, the bass player
\ncries into his beer –
\nare Ysabel’s mother or Ysabel dancing here?<\/p>\n

After hours all the couriers are
\nin the bar round the corner
\nwith the drivers in a game of cards….
\nIn bursts Ysabel,
\nher hair let loose, her limbs set free;
\non the tabletops she’s dancing to a memory –
\nconversation stops and every eye
\nis turned to see…
\nsomething about Ysabel’s dance.<\/p>\n

It’s a shrinking world,
\nit’s a fun-packed cruise, a museum trip:
\nskirt the native girl, check the rabid dog,
\nrejoin the ship.
\nThere’s no Charlie Mingus,
\nhis Tijuana’s gone…
\nthis smile for the camera is all just a tourist con.<\/p>\n

But after hours all the couriers and drivers know
\nof a cantina where there’s every chance
\nthat she might show;
\nand maybe Ysabel
\nwill dance the dance for real again,
\nher mother’s footsteps, vice and virtue,
\nlust and love and pain.
\nThere’s something here
\nthe anthropologist dare not explain,
\nsomething about Ysabel’s dance….<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\nGreen Fingers<\/strong><\/p>\n

He’ll be young forever if he keeps this up…
\nso the bedroom playboy’s never going to grow up.
\nThe heart is a secret garden
\nto which there are no short cuts.<\/p>\n

Only green young fingers make the garden bloom;
\nfor the serious young men now is always too soon.
\nThe heart is a secret garden,
\nthe head is a darkened room.<\/p>\n

Close your eyes…
\nhow does it feel to be in love?
\nMuch too difficult, you shove
\ngreen fingers into gloves.<\/p>\n

Get those fingers dirty –
\nnow you’re getting warm;
\nblood those hands with passion,
\nturn your face to the storm.
\nThe heart is a bed of roses,
\nthe heart is a bed of thorns.<\/p>\n

Bleed, green fingers, bleed.<\/p>\n

Some future memory stirs…
\nsomeone’s always getting burned
\nif intensity holds true.
\nIf it’s real to be in love
\nhow does it feel to be in love?
\nGreen fingers stripped of gloves.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\nOn the Surface<\/strong><\/p>\n

On the surface
\nphosphorus gleaming;
\ndeep down
\nwe carry on dreaming.<\/p>\n

On the surface
\ncompass and charts checked;
\ndeep down the currents run
\nin a shining vortex,
\nin a swirling vortex.<\/p>\n

On the surface
\noil troubled water
\nsails set the seas on fire
\nto the farthest quarter….
\nAre we dreaming?
\nDream deep of childhood,
\ndream deep of future days –
\nit’ll all come good,
\ndeep dreaming.<\/p>\n

On the surface
\nhead above water
\nlegs kick the carry-on…
\n(dreaming) break the surface;
\ndreaming of long-lost childhood,
\nhoping for better days –
\nit’ll all come good,
\ndeep dreaming.<\/p>\n

It’ll all come good,
\ndeep dreaming.
\nIt’ll all come to the surface,
\nit’ll all rise to the surface,
\ndeep dreaming.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\nA Way Out<\/strong><\/p>\n

Out of joint, out of true,
\nout of love, out of the blue,
\nout of order, out of orbit, out of control,
\nout of touch, out of line,
\nout of sync and out of time,
\nout of gas, out of tread,
\nout of road.<\/p>\n

Out of date, out of stock,
\nout of use – out, out, damned spot!
\nYou want out, you want out of it for good.
\nOut of the running, out of the game,
\nout on your feet, clear out of range,
\nout of context, out of contact,
\nout of the woods.<\/p>\n

Out, out, looking for a way out,
\nno straws are left to cling to;
\nout, out, going for the fade-out…
\nbut what do you fade into?<\/p>\n

Out on the town, out for laughs,
\nout of service, out to grass,
\nout of mourning, out of purdah, out on bail,
\nout of kilter, out of grace,
\nout to get out of this place,
\nout of this world, out and out
\nbeyond the pale.<\/p>\n

Right out of character, out of sympathy,
\nso far out upon a limb
\nyou’re out of your tree….<\/p>\n

Out of breath, out of tune,
\nout of your head and out of view,
\ndown and out, out for the count, or is it just for revenge?
\nOut of sight, out of mind,
\nleave it out, leave it behind
\nout of reach of all family, all friends.<\/p>\n

Out, out, going for the bale-out,
\nno parachute above you.
\nOut, out…you’ll not feel the fall-out.<\/p>\n

I wish I’d said „I love you”.<\/p>\n

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

Evidently Goldfish Check the honesty of what’s on offer, true detective or a fake fakir? All the evidence is circumstantial – as mud the evidence is clear. Paranormal the investigation – where do things go when they disappear? All the … Czytaj dalej →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":659,"parent":519,"menu_order":16,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"sidebar-page.php","meta":{"_sitemap_exclude":false,"_sitemap_priority":"","_sitemap_frequency":"","footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-826","page","type-page","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/826","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=826"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/826\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":828,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/826\/revisions\/828"}],"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=826"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}