Treinta y uno de julio Dos mil diecisiete

The Circus is in town. Prepare for fun and excitement. Take care of and protect your children and lock your front and back doors. They are camping in the Darkside Park with their tents and fences and trailers.

I swear I saw a llama lying and chewing and grazing on the lawn.

..... Well, I am the boy who cried llama

..... And I know I've lied in the past

..... Last night I saw its yellow eyes shining in the dark

..... Yeah, I know I spawn tales with its voice

..... And I open my mouth too fast

..... Last night I saw its footprints in the path

..... Well, I could swim every sea, South Pole to north

..... But I know I'll only ever be the boy who cried llama

..... Well, I am the shepherd's only son

..... And I know what a joke I've become

..... I have an honest heart but I've lies on my tongue

..... I don't know how this started where it came from

..... You have no reason and I have no proof

..... But this time I swear, I'm telling the truth

..... I saw that old llama from tail to tooth

..... And I know it's hungry and it's coming down too

..... Well, I could swim every sea from South Pole to north

..... And I could climb every tree scale every coarse

..... And I can only tell the truth from this stay forth

..... But I know I'll only ever be the boy who cried llama

..... Oh I'm the boy who cried llama

..... Oh I'm the boy who cried…

Blue balloons are floating past the glass-door to my penthouse's roof terrace. Or are they ninety-nine red balloons?

Beware the dancing clown. Maybe his name is Pennywise…

Jumatano na tisa ya Julai mbili elfu na saba

Here's another cheap one for the Saturday...
Cheap because I didn't put many thoughts in it...
Another stolen one from way back then...

Oh Lord, how I hate these dots...

When the night shows

The signals grow on radios

All the strange things

They come and go, as early warnings

Stranded starfish have no place to hide

Still waiting for the swollen Eastern tide

There's no point in direction we cannot

Even choose a side.

I took the old track

The hollow shoulder, across the waters

On the tall cliffs

They were getting older, sons and daughters

The jaded underworld was riding high

Waves of steel hurled metal at the sky

And as the nail sunk in the cloud, the rain

Was warm and soaked the crowd.

Lord, here comes the flood

We'll say goodbye to flesh and blood

If again the seas are silent

In any still alive

It'll be those who gave their island to survive

Drink up, dreamers, you're running dry.

When the flood calls

You have no home, you have no walls

In the thunder crash

You're a thousand minds, within a flash

Don't be afraid to cry at what you see

The actors gone, there's only you and me

If we break before the dawn

They'll use up what we used to be.

Lord, here comes the flood

We'll say goodbye to flesh and blood

If again the seas are silent

In any still alive

It'll be those who gave their island to survive

Drink up, dreamers, you're running dry.

.

.

.

Dua puluh katilu Juli dua-sarébu-tujuh belas

What happened to them mobster gangsters and that shooting you witnessed, I hear you ask. They were a real threat, weren't they? How did you escape, Bromford Bibble?

I take a deep sip of a very bad drink.

I don't have a crime story. I don't have a story at all. I just have fleeting thoughts and ideas. And a very bad smelling drink on a roof terrace.

That's not so bad after all. Who needs crime and excitement when you can have security and a view. Look down in the streets of Bromford, Bromford. And tell me what you see.

The railing seems very low tonight. Just a little skip and I could try to sail down below.

Who are you again, I ask. And what should I see?

I am one of your neighbours, you remember? One of the other inhabitants of the apartment house on 666 Whitaker Lane.

Excuse me, but I think I've never seen you before.

But I cannot take my eyes off the Bromford skyline. Lights, I see lights. Lights in the windows. Streetlights. Lights from cars in the streets and on Bromford Bridge on the horizon. The canyons of Bromford are lively and vivid tonight. Maybe I am missing one of the grand anniversaries again.

And as I turn to look at my visitor here on the roof of the house on 666 Whitaker Lane the slender, unearthly figure is gone.

What is more frightening? Pale, white people standing silently on a hill or some pale, white figure or creature disappearing on a roof in a warm summer night?

Life is no adventure tale. Life is no ghost-story…

Бистуми июл ду ҳазор-ҳабдаҳ

Living a boy's adventure tale… in so many ways…

I am living a ghost story now. The white hooded and veiled creatures are living in the house on 666 Whitaker Lane in Bromford, the friendly town by the bay and seaside, now. They are hunting and haunting me.

Come down, come down, wherever you are…

Why do I always feel like misty and mysterious Novembers in the middle of the summer? But summer is still to come. Another spring is still to leave…

I've fixed my dwelling for the night

Lights in pairs come passing by where I hide

I need some time now on my own

Leave my loneliness alone

To lick my wounds

Night has found me just in time

To help me close my eyes one more time

Living a boy's adventure tale

In so many ways

Living a boy's adventure tale

For so many days

I'm living a boy's adventure tale

Can't escape, if I wanted to

Living a boy's adventure tale

I may be dreaming but I feel awake

I've been lost in so many places

Seeked love in so many faces

A change of weather, the rain pours down

My head in hands, pressed to the ground

And where am I supposed to go now

Living a boy's adventure tale

In so many ways

Living a boy's adventure tale

Living a boy's adventure tale

A voice I hear

Living a boy's adventure tale

Singing a lullaby for me

Living a boy's adventure tale

Because of you

Living a boy's adventure

Oh you know it's true …

எல்லா தவறான கேள்விகளும்

Who pulled the trigger?

It's cold outside. The night love died. On the night you murdered love…

This neighborhood isn't what it used to be. The harbor quarter has flooded the city. Dark corners and backstreets. Whitaker Lane is wet and dirty now. And the wind brings a salty and rotten smell from the bay.

A shot echoes through the skyscraper canyons.

I am hiding behind an overflowing dumpster.

A group of men in a shadowy twilight surrounding a motionless figure lying on the floor.

A hoarse voice growling, Who pulled the trigger?

A gloved back of hand hitting a cheek.

But, boss. One of the men kneels down whining.

You killed him, the hoarse voice is whispering. I wasn't done with him. He knew where the dude is, for sure, but couldn't tell.

Another gunshot is tearing up the silence. Another body lying dead on the floor.

Clean up, the hoarse voice commands. And get rid of the witness behind that dumpster…

పన్నెండవ జూలై రెండు వేల పదిహేడు

There are people standing on the hills. Standing perfectly still. Watching. Pale white people in long white floating robes. Motionless watchers on the hills. A fool on the hill? I drove all night but I didn't get a step closer to where I was going to. Are they real people? Do I always have to question everything? The people look like storks to me, long-legged wading birds with white and black plumage. White at the tops, black at the bottoms. And uh... those red legs. Tonight on the foggy hills they look more like birds of prey scanning the surroundings for... well... prey ready to attack and to sink their sharp beaks deep into innocent flesh. Beware little rabbits and mice! The watchers are watching you! The whaters are whating you and me...

เจ็ดเดือนกรกฎาคมพันเจ็ดสิบเจ็ด

Something Old.

Something New.

If You Borrow It You Won't Feel Blue.

Never seen a sadder thing than clothes drying on a line getting wet again in the pouring rain...