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He doesn't even reach my feet
I can't look any further
He will soon return to his original place
 
Chasing after me is your job, isn't it?
Always, always seek to the utmost
Hey, look, more, more
 
I hate people like you
Disgusting, stay away from me
Even if I refuse, I'm the only one who can see it
 
Let's crawl and talk about love
I can let you kiss this hand, it's ok too
 
Hug every word like a glass work
I'm not a good person, I'm not nice
A king? A god?
Worship, worship
Like idiots
Someone important? Me?
An unconscious king
 
I'm so into it that no one else can enter
I won't take this choker off
No matter what you do, what do I do with jealousy?
Turn all your consciousness towards me
 
I hate people like you
Egoistic and obstinate
An ambiguous favour that is not spread
Come closer and be greedy
Let's be honest
Then
I'll be a king just for you
 

Little Farm

A wave runs along the Sosik.
A Cossack urges his pony on.
He is hurrying to a farm, to a famstead
To visit his darling wife, sons and daughters
He is hurrying to a farm, to a famstead
To visit his darling wife, sons and daughters
 
Just outside Izmail and Constantinople
Bullets were flying like lead hail.
Horses were straining, pikes were snapping.
They hacked, they fought with resounding whooping
Horses were straining, pikes were snapping.
They hacked, they fought with resounding whooping
 
They carried Suvorov standards
Across the snow-capped Alps.
From the walls of Moscow to Paris
The Cossack din is heard afar
From the walls of Moscow to Paris
The Cossack din is heard afar
 
A wave runs along the Sosik.
A Cossack unharnesses his pony
Hello darling wife, sons and daughters
I have not been to the farmstead for a long time.
Hello darling wife, sons and daughters
I have not been to the farmstead for a long time.
Hello darling wife, sons and daughters
I have not been to the farmstead for a long time.
Hello darling wife, sons and daughters
I have not been to the farmstead for a long time.
 

Word Processor

Versions: #1
Caught in a blackout membrane.
Liberation movement for the
sensitivity that'd severed all brain activity, path to recapture.
The consequent solitary armed uprising.
 
With regards to whether to live or die,
counting backwards from the end, it's a suburban memento mori.
An alley of shuttered down shops, iron bridge on the outskirts of the city,
the spirits of our ancestors always stand watch.
 
My secondhand car keeps making a hundred thousand kilometers
worth of round trips on a highway from each word to the next.
If I keep nursing my dreams unfulfilled at the beach,
then even those will finally be seen through to the end.
 
If you are to bury my bones, then let it be in my hometown.
But the final resting place of my words is right here.
Ten years later, a hundred years later,
I'm confident that they're seeds that will bud somehow or another.
 
I sing the songs we were told not to sing.
I scream the words we were told not to speak.
It must be a passion strong enough to burn
those tears of defeat we once shed.
I glared at tomorrow as if to say 'Like I'd let it end here,'
and desperately shot down my impulse of annoyance.
Without calling it hope, what is it to be called?
 
Reality and fantasy weigh equally
and become a lead downpour. From the hole it opened in that chest
I can see your faded thing called tomorrow.
 
The word processor that kept speaking in mathematical formulas.
Even the shortest little line ripped out and thrown away,
now that some years have passed
at last it bores into even rock-like despair.
 
I sing the songs we were told not to sing.
I scream the words we were told not to speak.
It must be a passion strong enough to burn
those tears of defeat we once shed.
 
I glared at tomorrow as if to say 'Like I'd let it end here,'
and desperately shot down my impulse of annoyance.
Without calling it hope, what is it to be called?
 
I sing the songs we were told not to sing. My head spins.
 

Heads or tails

Today it's raining
in the valley
and Roncocesi1 is far back by now
I come home
like the dogs
to savage
the kites
yeah
 
Heads or tails
time passes
short pants2, and then
in a moment
memories
goosebumps
and a tear
worth half a dime
 
Where might you be,
my home,
how might you be,
my life
 
Oh, no no no
floating in the air
and you turn away
like flwers
oh, no no no
like feathers in the air
taken away, we are alone
 
Where might you be,
my home,
how might you be,
my life
 
Oh, no no no
floating in the air
and you turn away
like flwers
oh, no no no
like feathers in the air
taken away, we are alone
 
Na na
Naina, na na
Na na
Naina, na na
'If you make him cry'
Air, we are air
in the air
only air
 
'And don't make him cry'
heads or tails
I quietly come back
'cause what I'm looking form by now
it's already far.
 

• 1. Zucchero's hometown
• 2. traditionally, short pants are for kids, while a boy wearing trousers signifies he has reached adulthood

Cintecul Regelui

Atit de mult a straduit ca sa fie rege
Lucrind nopti si zile
Visind doar la un lucru
Niciodata despre vacante
Undeva pe drum
El a uitat ca ea era o fata
Acum regatul lui s-a prabusit
Si e intr-adevar o poveste tragica
Ca el a construit un castel ca s-o adaposteasca pe regina lui
Dar regina a spus ca el i-a construit o inchisoare
 
Atit de mult a straduit ca sa fie rege
Totul a vrut
El i-a construit o casa linga marea
Numai ca s-o tin acasa
Unde pe drum
El a uitat ca ea avea nevoie de un prieten
Acum regatul lui s-a prabusit
Si e intr-adevar o poveste tragica
Ca el a construit un castel ca s-o adaposteasca pe regina lui
Dar regina a spus ca el i-a construit o inchisoare
 
S-a intimplat atit de repede inainte ca el sa stia
Ea a plecat, de mult
Departe din castelul, diamantele si lucrurile
Care ea portase la petrecerea
Era un bilet care scrisese cu grija
L-a semnat « cu cele mai bune urari la toti »
Oh atit de mult ai straduit ca sa fii rege
Lucrind nopti si zile
Visind doar la un lucru, niciodata despre vacante
Unde pe drum
Ai uitat ca aveam nevoie de un barbat
 
Cind l-au gasit l-au dus unde apartinea
Si familia si prietenii lui il vizitau anual
Si se zice ca e un pecat ceea ce a devenit din regele
 

Let Us Proceed In Peace! In The Company Of Angels & Psalm 24 (23) Verses 7– 10 (Antiphon)

Let Us Proceed In Peace
In Christ’s Name So Be It
In The Company Of Angels And Children
We Shall Find The Faithful
Conqueror Of Death
Hosanna In The Highest
Lift Up Ye Heads O Ye Glorious Gates
And Be Ye Lifted Up Ye Everlasting Doors
And The King Of Glory Shall Come In
Who Is The King Of Glory?
The Strong And Mighty Lord
The Mighty Lord In Battle
In The Company Of Angels And Children
We Shall Find The Faithful
Conqueror Of Death
Hosanna In The Highest
Lift Up Ye Heads O Ye Glorious Gates
And Be Ye Lifted Up Ye Everlasting Doors
And The King Of Glory Shall Come In
Who Is The King Of Glory?
The Lord Is The King Of Hosts
He Has Proved True
Conqueror Of Death
Hosanna In The Highest
 

Nimeni n-o iubeste pe o fata grasa

Nimeni n-o iubeste pe o fata grasa
Oh cit de mult poate o fata grasa sa ofere iubire
Se pare ca nimeni nu ma vrea
Sint numai o camioneta pe ruta iubirii
Sint singura inauntrul formei mele
Fiecare kilo al meu atit de tare vrea sa-l tina pe cineva cald
Nimeni n-o iubeste pe o fata grasa
Oh cit de mult poate o fata grasa sa ofere iubire
Nimeni n-o iubeste pe o fata grasa
Oh cit de mult poate o fata grasa sa ofere iubire
Se pare ca nimeni nu ma vrea
Sint numai o camioneta pe ruta iubirii
Singurul joc cu care sa-i conving pe barbatii sa joace
 
E pe ei sa stea si sa banuiasca cit de kilo am
Nimeni n-o iubeste pe o fata grasa
Oh cit de mult poate o fata grasa sa ofere iubire
Oh cit de mult poate o fata grasa sa ofere iubire
 

The internal action food processor

I bought a new food processsor. I already had one, but this one is better, because it's of internal action. You have to place it in the stomach. Bah! if you're a doctor and you have some skill you can place it yourself. The good thing about this processor is that you can stop cooking. Instead of preparing the foods, you eat straight up the ingredents. For example, you eat a pack of flour, then a butter bar, you eat half big spoon of baking powder, half glass of milk, a pack of cocoa powder and it feels like you're eating a chocolate cake.
 
At first you don't realize, but when the food reaches the stomach you understand it with full clarity.
 
Of course, you have to put on teeth in the stomach entrance, to be able to chew what is getting inside. That's a bit expensive, but it makes up for what you save in gas and electricity when you stop cooking. As soon as I can, I will do it. The doctor says that swallowing without chewing is not good. He's right, and the opposite is neither recomandable. But, placing a throat in the stomach would cost me an eye of the face, is it's not good for be, becuase I'm gonna need that eye there, close to the stomach, to see what I'm swallowing. That's why, instead of placing inside of me a synthetic throat, I'm going to transfer my stomach to my own throat. This also requires that, they sew my head over the shoulder blades, and that is a lot of stitches. About the aesthetic part, I'm not so worried. Some will say, 'that dude doesn't have a neck', or some will say, 'look, there goes a man with one single eye'.
 
But too bad for them. The ones who see me with an X ray device will realize that it isn't true: I keep all my organs, only that they're arranged in a more functional way.
 
With time, I'm thinking of making more improvements in my organism.
 
For examle, it's a shame that the brain is placed in a very exposed place like the head. I'm thinking of placing it near the stomach, for it to be more protected and also, it will control more efficiently my digestive process because it will be so near. These processes need a good supervision, at least during the first months after being modificated.
 
Besides, it's good that all the organs and the most important functions should be placed in the same zone. Yes, I will do it. It's like a strategic withdrawal of myself inside myself.
 
Some will say that I'm going to reduce myself, because some parts like the head, will remain as an ornament, being able to later become stunted and then to detach and fall like dry leaves, but all that is indifferent to me.
 
I'm not thinking of reducing myself: I'm thinking of compressing myself. I know that in my most intimate heart of hearts I'm irreductible, and any place is good for me to settle down. And if things work better that way, I'll laugh out loud about what people will think, even when that people won't har my laugh, because they will sound more precisely on the oesophagus sector and outskirts. But I don't wish to extend myself more in the description of my modifications program. It's long and besides is too wide and... I just wanted, for now, to recommend the purchase of the internal action food processor.
 

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Επεξεργασμένοι Ρυθμοί

Τρέχω από την παλίρροια
Δεν θα σε αφήσω να κρυφτείς
Δεν θα σε αφήσω να κρυφτείς
 
Κάνω ρυθμούς από επεξεργασμένο κρέας
Από μια συζήτηση/ένας στοχασμός και
Κόβω κύματα σαν μια φασκομηλιά που δεν έχει γεννηθεί
Σαν τους τρομοκράτες τη μέρα που ξεκουράζουν τη φωνή τους
 
Τρέχω από την παλίρροια
Δεν θα σε αφήσω να κρυφτείς
Δεν θα σε αφήσω να κρυφτείς
 
Σπάω κόκκαλα, κλέβω κινητά τηλέφωνα
Και κάνω συμφωνίες γι' αυτά τα γεύματα για τους άστεγους
Κάνοντας αδρανείς απειλές χρησιμοποιώντας κινέζικα καψίματα
Καθώς φορτώνεις το κεφάλι μου με τους ευγνώμονες νεκρούς να τραγουδούν
 
Τρέχω από την παλίρροια
Δεν θα σε αφήσω να κρυφτείς
Δεν θα σε αφήσω να κρυφτείς
(x4)
 
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The Trial

Frollo:
You have been accused and denied but in vain
For having wounded that captain
 
Esmeralda:
If he is wounded then he's alive
And if he's alive I wish he were here
 
Frollo:
But you have seduced and bewitched him
And then you had wounded him
 
Esmeralda:
I swear on my life - no
 
Frollo:
You were alone on that bed with him
 
Esmeralda:
There is a hellish preacher against me
He follows me everywhere, I know who he is
 
Frollo:
These are just hallucinations
It's only madness, only imagination
 
Esmeralda:
It's just that he looks like you
 
Frollo:
Look in her eyes, there's fire in her
 
Frollo, chorus:
There's the fire of a witch in her
She's a pagan, a gypsy, a stranger, she is
 
Frollo:
Away, confess
You are the accused one
 
Esmeralda:
I'm a victim and you know it
That I have nothing to confess