Count Grassi’s Passage Over Piedmont
Below the Po rolls slow from Alps to Adriatic Sea
Blow old bellows, blow
Take us where you will
Padua, Genoa, Corsica, Catalonia, O Segovia
O unfathomable firmament.
That we should set a course between the two
Clinging only to our orb of blue and red
Like Romanovs to a Faberge egg
Push Sisyphus, push
Heave our sphere into the heavens.
If I’m to die then let it be in summertime
In a manner of my own choosing
To fall from a great height
On a warm July afternoon
liverwurst, Battenburg, Emmenthall, Syllabub
Muscadet Throw it all away
We Need more height O Newton, release this apple from STIs earthly shackles And live to fight
another day.
Go back from whence you came the swallows cry You've corrupted
and befouled the ground you walk upon
And now you come to poison the skies
Please friends, forgive this brief intrusion.
The first song is this portrayal of the transience of time which in turn is the epitome of great personal story of us all. Explained as a whole patchwork of letters, place and European delicacies tells the story of someone who was his short story becomes insufficient, but in turn believed to have left a significant mark. For me it is the mark of someone who did not have the pleasure to meet personally but its volatility and intensity left a mark that I do not think that I will never go.
Our Mutual Friend
No matter how I try I just can not get her out of my mind And When I
I Visualise her sleep.
I saw her in the pub. Later I met her at the night-club. Introduced
A mutual friend us.
we talk about the noise
And how it’s hard to hear your own voice
Above the beat and the sub-bass.
We talked and talked for hours, we talked in the back of our friend’s car
As we all went back to his place.
On our friend’s settee She told me that she really liked me
And I said “cool, the feeling’s mutual�?.
We played old 45’s. I said “it’s like the soundtrack to our lives�?
And she said “true, it’s not unusual�?.
Then privately we danced
But couldn’t seem to keep our balance,
A drunken haze had come upon us.
We sank down to the floor and we sang
A song that I can’t sing any more,
And Then We kissed and Fell Unconscious. I woke up
the next day all alone But for a headache.
I stumbled out to find the bathroom.
But all I found Was Her wrapped around Another lover. Then
No longer is he Our Mutual Friend.
The second song is the story we have all lived many times, there is always someone next jodiéndote. The basis of repeatedly swinging strings a masterful riff, with a masterful crescendo culminates in one of the wittiest lyrics and more bad milk that I have read in my life. How beautiful it is to feel heard and think that you want to be nothing more than the story of someone preparing the ground who knows better than you the mechanisms of seduction. Pure irony, simply a masterpiece.