Oceania
One breath away from mother Oceania
Your nimble feet make prints in my sands
You have done good for yourselves
Since you left my wet embrace
And crawled ashore
Every boy, is a snake is a lily
Every pearl is a lynx, is a girl
Sweet like harmony made into flesh
You dance by my side
Children sublime
You show me continents
I see islands
You count the centuries
I blink my eyes
Hawks and sparrows race in my waters
Stingrays are floating
Across the sky
Little ones, my sons and my daughters
Your sweat is salty
I am why
I am why
I am why
Your sweat is salty
I am why
I am why
I am why
Common People She came from Greece she had a thirst for knowledge
She studied sculpture at Saint Martin’s College, that’s where I caught her eye.
She told me that her Dad was loaded
I said in that case I’ll have a rum and coca-cola.
She said fine and then in thirty seconds time she said, I want to live like common people
I want to do whatever common people do, I want to sleep with common people
I want to sleep with common people like you.
Well what else could I do – I said I’ll see what I can do.
I took her to a supermarket
I don’t know why but I had to start it somewhere, so it started there.
I said pretend you’ve got no money, she just laughed and said oh you’re so funny.
I said yeah? Well I can’t see anyone else smiling in here.
Are you sure you want to live like common people
You want to see whatever common people see
You want to sleep with common people,
you want to sleep with common people like me.
But she didn’t understand, she just smiled and held my hand.
Rent a flat above a shop, cut your hair and get a job.
Smoke some fags and play some pool, pretend you never went to school.
But still you’ll never get it right
‘cos when you’re laid in bed at night watching roaches climb the wall
If you call your Dad he could stop it all.
You’ll never live like common people
You’ll never do what common people do
You’ll never fail like common people
You’ll never watch your life slide out of view, and dance and drink and screw
Because there’s nothing else to do.
Sing along with the common people, sing along and it might just get you thru’
Laugh along with the common people
Laugh along even though they’re laughing at you and the stupid things that you do.
Because you think that poor is cool.
I want to live with common people like you, I want to live with common people like you…
Led Zeppelin. La trame sonore des étés de ma jeunesse. Quand on était ado dans les années 1970 et qu’on passait les étés à rien faire. À chiller ou à véger, comme on dirait aujourd’hui. Pas de camp de jour. Pas d’activités planifiées pendant trois semaines de vacances avec papa maman ou en famille reconstituée. Réinventer la vie et refaire le monde chaque jour, sans plan ni idées préconçues.
Kashmir. Un goût de soleil, de chlore de piscine et d’été interminable. Un goût d’interdit et de découverte aussi. Un goût d’éternité et d’invicibilité surtout. Kashmir, c’était avant que la mort existe pour vrai. Quand elle n’existait qu’à la télévision. Quand on avait toute la vie devant soi et qu’on ne serait jamais vieux.
lune funambule 