Layers are practical. In San Francisco everybody knows that. Big bags to store stuff in too... If you want layers you also need storage space.
So I get back to some old songs and they are feeling better now. There are memories of memories on there now, like a sugar coating, thin but visible. I try, you know, and I try not to be cold...stay warm, a little. Decide, go for things. There are so many things to know. But never will I forget you. It is very hard not to talk about you but it's getting easier every day now. I see the dilemma you find yourself in. The wish to make it all good and the despair when you see it won't work. But you were so good in making it good, all good, bubbaloo. It's not like you think it is. You just can't see it the way I see it. It's the glasses man. Take them off.
Oh yes, things have changed. Things have changed. I meet people on the quiet streets of southern Germany, they smile and laugh, can't believe that I am back, what are you doing now they ask and I smile and hand out the facts.
My wishes reach beyond those measures, however, songs can't faze me so much anymore. I slowly let go. The beauty of effort ridden cultural creme de la creme. The Russians, the Italian, the French, the Spanish lady. A theater festival, a juggling convention.
My dreams belong to Motpellier, a city in southern France, a beautiful brown eyed girl in it and a possible adventure to get there.
The clownschool Dimitri in southern Tessin and just the whole great world in front of my eyes.
It IS a beautiful world, Louis, it is, indeed. People are just so damn fucking concerned with their own petty lives all the time. Too busy to realize: what a wonderful world.
No comments:
Post a Comment