R.I.P. - 11 settembre 2009

Jim Carroll - Wicked Gravity




The gravity here is just sick for revenge
It's like my lungs are filled with chains . . .
The sky seems so low,
It hasn't moved this slow
Since the virgins, since the virgins went dancing for the rain
You know the stars in the night
They're like the holes in the cave
Like the ceiling of a bombed-out church
But gravity blocks my screams
It's like an enemy's dreams
My guardians quit
They quit before they started their search

I want a world without gravity
It could be just what I need
I'd watch the stars move close
I'd watch the earth recede
I wanna drift above the borders against my will
I wanna sleep where the angels don't pass
But now my lips are blue
Gravity does it to you
It's like they're pressed against a mirrored glass
I want my will and capability to meet inside the region
Where this gravity don't mean a thing
It's where the angels break through . . .
It's where they bring it to you
It's where silence, silence can teach me to sing

I wanna lay beneath these sheets and never turn blue
I wanna hold you, hold you tight but never touch
I want some pure, pure white; hey, we can nod all night
We can do it without thinking too much
I want the dilettantes and parvenues to choke on my wrists
They think the pearls I wear are pills
I want their gravity to shatter . . . but it really doesn't matter
I got something in my eye that kills!

Wicked, wicked, wicked, wicked gravity . . .
Wicked, wicked, wicked, wicked gravity . . .
Wicked, wicked, wicked, wicked.