Crocodile
Tears 
Does she cry for me?
Does she cry for herself?
It's hard to tell
when your thoughts
are clouded
with emotion.
She leaves the house
and walks though an
empty field.
I see her standing
there,
but where are her
thoughts?
It's hard to tell,
but I'd say . . .
. Crocodile Tears
Crocodile Tears
Soldiers on show--
Celebration!
Faceless heroes on
exhibition.
American dream is
over.
In the city
the flags are
burning
I planned attack
in the desert.
No place for heroes
in this parade.
American dream is
over.
In the city
the flags are
burning.
Soldiers on show . .
.
In the city
the flags are
burning.
It's a simple story.
You have this hold
over me.
I'm like clay in
your hands
each time we touch.
Each time we touch,
it's harder to break
this hold.
Something you said.
I turn away in
anguish.
Passion conflicts
with pride.
How can I break this
hold
you have over me
each time we touch?
Each time we touch,
it's harder to break
this hold.
Is he happy today?
He doesn't know
it's the first time
he's been on his
own.
Her scent is on his
lips.
He can hear her
voice.
Her presence left
behind
in the room.
Here in this empty
room
he feels so
insecure.
. . . The empty
room . . .
She has the rose he
gave her.
He understands
she crushed the
petals in her hand.
A stillness hangs in
the air.
A silence surrounds.
He has the house,
but she's gone.
Here in this empty
room
he feels so
insecure.
. . . The empty
room . . .
Someone's playing a game,
a cruel game
that parallels a sad
brutality.
Every face I see
reminds me of her.
I'm haunted by
useless memories
She took away the
reason,
took away the
meaning.
Every second,
every minute of
waking,
I'm aware of this
emptiness.
Nothing is left,
just a memory,
a reminder of the
things
we said and did.
She took away the
reason,
took away the meaning.
|
Winter
The icy chill is
overheard
but winter hides a
great threat.
Here in the West
we hold our breaths
. . .
Waiting for the
moment.
Talk of freedom,
talk of peace,
illusions of a
different world,
we hold our breaths
and we're waiting .
. .
Waiting for the
moment.
I can't escape this
feeling,
can't close my eyes
to the threat.
I can't escape this
feeling,
a chill that I want
to forget.
There are no human
rights.
(But there's hope.)
Exteriors
At first sight,
I fell in love with
you.
This feeling, I
thought,
was mutual--
because you were looking
at me
and smiling.
I was attracted
by your appearance,
and I felt sure
that,
in some way,
this appearance was
a true reflection
of your personality.
I looked at you
a second time,
and this confirmed
my first impression.
You too, it seemed,
had looked again,
and in doing so,
reinforced our
mutual attraction.
No spoken word
could spoil this
courtship,
no flaws in
personality
could divide
an attraction
strictly based on appearance--
an overlapping of
perfect exteriors.
Here comes my Angel.
Here comes my Angel,
causing destruction,
Gabriel's a fallen
Angel.
The message,
it hits you:
a message from the
Chosen Few.
The right to kill a
man
sanctioned from
above
in pursuit of
destiny,
nothing stands in
the way.
The message hits
you.
It hits you,
a message from the
Chosen Few.
Impressions of Africa:
How sweet the image
of naked beauty,
the hot sun is
overhead,
cold guns in the hands of the
exploited.
Impressions of
Africa
But black skin still
bleeds red blood.
There is famine in
the Third World.
Guns from the East,
guns from the West,
are pushed into the
hands of the exploited.
Impressions of
Africa
Eyes of the East,
eyes of the West
upon you,
first footsteps in
the valley.
Eyes of the East,
eyes of the West upon
you,
see the homecoming.
See the glory.
Impressions of
Africa
He wakes and rises,
sounds and smells.
For a moment
his thoughts are
elsewhere.
Then he remembers.
On the wall
a window through
which he looks,
but seeing nothing
he turns his gaze
inwards once more . . .
He turns his gaze .
. .
. . . inwards
Now his face becomes
a mask.
Now his face becomes
an empty mask,
expressionless in
his sadness.
Change his face . .
. Change is face . . .
Change his face.
Heaven lasted but a
moment.
|
