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Metaballon Anapauetai

When I was ten, my father held me on his shoulders above the crowd
To see a train draped in mourning pass slowly through our town
His widow kneeled with all their children at the sacred burial ground
And the TV glowed that long hot summer with all the cities burning down

And the stones in the road flew out beneath our bicycle tires
Worlds removed from all those fires as we raced each other home
And now we drink our coffee on the run, we climb that ladder rung by rung
We are the daughters and the sons, and here's the line that's missing


- "Stones in the Road", Mary-Chapin Carpenter

Plus ca change, plus c'est le meme chose.
Prophetic, isn't it?

--
Banazir

Comments

( 2 comments — Leave a comment )
auriam
Jun. 15th, 2004 04:03 am (UTC)
Wow. That poem, though I don't know what its context is, is compelling and beautifully written.

And doesn't every cliché sound better when it's in French? Que sera sera, c'est la vie.. I'm glad I took French in school, even though, say, Spanish might've been more 'useful'. French just sounds better. Like the Merovingian said.. even cursing in French is like wiping your ass with silk.
banazir
Sep. 30th, 2004 03:58 pm (UTC)
Wow. That poem, though I don't know what its context is, is compelling and beautifully written.
It's a song, by Mary-Chapin Carpenter.
Let me know if you don't have it.

And doesn't every cliché sound better when it's in French? Que sera sera, c'est la vie.. I'm glad I took French in school, even though, say, Spanish might've been more 'useful'. French just sounds better.
C'est vrai!

Like the Merovingian said.. even cursing in French is like wiping your ass with silk.
Merde et contremerde!

--
Banazir
( 2 comments — Leave a comment )

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