First, there’s the oldest, the one shaped like a melon,
Him with the big nose who doesn’t know his name anymore
Mister, so much does he drink or so much has he drunk
Who does nothing with his ten fingers or who can’t use them any more
Who is completely stewed and who takes himself for king
Who gets drunk every night on bad wine and they find him in the morning
Asleep in the church stiff as a hard-on, white as an Easter candle
And then who stammers and who has an eye which wonders
Must tell you Mister, that those people there they don’t think, they pray.
And then, there’s the other. Carrots in his hair
Who never saw a comb, who is wicked as a devil
Even if he would give his shirt to the lucky poor people
Who married Denise, a girl from the city or another city
And that’s not the end, who does his little business
With his little hat, with his little coat, with his little auto
Who would like to have an attitude but has no attitude at all
Mustn’t play at being rich when you don’t have a dime
Must tell you mister, that those people there, they don’t live, they cheat.
And then there are the others: the mother who says nothing or doesn’t matter what
And from evening to the morning under her beautiful apostle’s face
And in her wooden box there’s the father’s moustache: he died in a fall
And she watches her troop drink cold soup; they make big slurps
Then there’s the old lady who doesn’t stop shaking
They’re waiting for her to die because she has the money
And they don’t even listen to what her poor hands are saying
Must tell you mister, that with those people there, they don’t talk, they count
Then there is Frida who’d beautiful as the sun and loves me the same as I love her.
Even, we tell each other often that we will have a house with lots of windows and almost no walls
And we will live inside it and it will be good to be there
And if its not certain, its nevertheless maybe
Because the others don’t want it
The others, they say she is to beautiful for me; I am only good for skinning cats
I never killed cats. Or a long time ago. Or well I forgot. Or they seemed no good.
Finally, the others didn’t want it.
Sometimes when we see each other seeming like its not on purpose,
With her wet eyes she says she will leave.
She says she will follow me then for an instance, for an instance only I believe her mister.
Because with those people there, mister you don’t go away.
But it’s late mister. I have to go home.
Comments are welcome.
Huggles%Snuggles
Carpediem
