Das ist die Homepage zur
CD 2008
Vielleicht nimmst Du diese Musik auf Deine Glücksinsel mit - viel Spass.
Viele der Lieder, Texte oder
Melodien hatten für mich im Jahr 2007 eine tiefere Bedeutung.
Einige haben mich einfach aus dem Radio heraus verfolgt und erfreut,
andere habe ich an Konzerten gehört und genossen,
oder erinnern mich an Momente mit lieben Freunden.
Vielleicht nimmst Du diese Musik auf Deine Glücksinsel mit - viel Spass.
Sollte die CD Fehler haben oder überhaupt nicht lesbar sein auf Deinem CD-Player, dann melde Dich bitte bei mir und ich werde Dir eine neue schicken. (Klicke hier für eine EMAIL an Marcel)
Hier kannst Du zu meiner www.Watsu.net Homepage wechseln, danke für's reinschauen.
Oder gehe zu den CDs von den Jahren 2007, 2006, 2005, 2004, 2003 und 2002
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Que faut-il qu'on casse
Faut-il qu'on fasse
Quel numéro ?
Que faut-il qu'on classe
Faut-il qu'on chasse
De nos cerveaux ?
Qui prendra ta place
Prendra ma place
Qu'est-ce qu'il nous faut ?
Quelle sera la trace
De notre impasse
De nos travaux ?
Que faut-il qu'on fasse
Faut-il qu'on casse
Pour être en face
D'Eldorado ?
Que veux-tu qu'on froisse
Veux-tu qu'on glace
Qu'on jette à l'eau ?
Quelle part on efface ?
Rien ne trouve grâce
Plus rien ne vaut
Quelle terrible audace
Quelle sombre face
Et quel culot ?
Qu'est-ce qui nous dépasse
Qu'est-ce qui nous lasse
Qu'est-ce qui est beau ?
Que faut-il qu'on fasse
Faut-il qu'on casse
Pour être en face
D'Eldorado ?
My name is Luka
I live on the second floor
I live upstairs from you
Yes I think you've seen me before
If you hear something late at night
Some kind of trouble. some kind of fight
Just don't ask me what it was
Just don't ask me what it was
Just don't ask me what it was
I think it's because I'm clumsy
I try not to talk too loud
Maybe it's because I'm crazy
I try not to act too proud
They only hit until you cry
And after that you don't ask why
You just don't argue anymore
You just don't argue anymore
You just don't argue anymore
Yes I think I'm okay
I walked into the door again
Well, if you ask that's what I'll say
And it's not your business anyway
I guess I'd like to be alone
With nothing broken, nothing thrown
Just don't ask me how I am
Spine-tingling railway sleepers ---
Sleepy houses lying four-square and firm
Orange beams divide the darkness
Rumbling fit to turn the waking worm.
Sliding through Victorian tunnels
where green moss oozes from the pores.
Dull echoes from the wet embankments
Battlefield allotments. Fresh open sores.
In late night commuter madness
Double-locked black briefcase on the floor
like a faithful dog with master
sleeping in the draught beside the carriage door.
To each Journeyman his own home-coming
Cold supper nearing with each station stop
Frosty flakes on empty platforms
Fireside slippers waiting. Flip. Flop.
Journeyman night-tripping on the late fantasic
Too late to stop for tea at Gerard's Cross
and hear the soft shoes on the footbridge shuffle
as the wheels turn biting on the midnight frost.
On the late commuter special
Carriage lights that flicker, fade and die
Howling into hollow blackness
Dusky diesel shudders in full cry.
Down redundant morning papers
Abandon crosswords with a cough
Stationmaster in his wisdom
told the guard to turn the heating off.
'Wymyslilem
Ciebie' Dzisiaj nagle wymyśliłem Ciebie |
'I invented you' Today, you suddenly came to mind, |
Angie, angie, when will
those clouds all disappear?
Angie, angie, where will it lead us from here?
With no loving in our souls and no money in our coats
You cant say were satisfied
But angie, angie, you cant say we never tried
Angie, youre beautiful, but aint it time we said good-bye?
Angie, I still love you, remember all those nights we cried?
All the dreams we held so close seemed to all go up in smoke
Let me whisper in your ear:
Angie, angie, where will it lead us from here?
Oh, angie, dont you weep, all your kisses still taste sweet
I hate that sadness in your eyes
But angie, angie, aint it time we said good-bye?
With no loving in our souls and no money in our coats
You cant say were satisfied
But angie, I still love you, baby
Evrywhere I look I see your eyes
There aint a woman that comes close to you
Come on baby, dry your eyes
But angie, angie, aint it good to be alive?
Angie, angie, they cant say we never tried
Aujourd'hui j'ai 15 ans,
Paraît que tout va bien dans ma vie…
En vrai je fais semblant, mais je m'accroche et je respire.
Je fais partit de ces jeunes perdus, souriant par politesse,
Entourés mais pourtant si solitaire...
15 ans de vie, 30 ans de larmes
Versées dans le noir quand le silence blessait mon âme.
Plutôt banal pour une gosse de mon âge,
Le cœur balafré de rage
J'aimerais pouvoir vivre en marge,
Cette vie de merde n'a que le goût d'un somnifère mais je me dois de les
rendre fier eux qui me croient si solitaire.
Si vous saviez seule dans ma chambre comme je souffre,
J'ai le mal de l'ado en manque à bout de souffle...
Eux ils sont fort, moi je ne suis rien
Rien qu'à mon mentor, face à l'adulte je le sais bien mais raper c'est pas
un jeune qui peut paraître à l'abris,
Car vos mots le pousseront à mettre un terme à sa vie…
Refrain :
Je veux…
Je veux partir pour mieux revenir
Et devenir quelqu'un, quelqu'un de bien parce que je reviens de loin…
Je veux…
Je veux partir pour mieux revenir ... et devenir quelqu'un…
Au nom des jeunes incompris qui luttent contre eux même,
au nom de ceux qui savent combien nos vies sont malsaines.
Toujours sourire et faire semblant de s'aimer,
Mais dans le fond on se déteste on aimerais pouvoir céder.
Pourquoi l'adulte ne sait pas ce que je sais,
Pourquoi me prend il pour une môme quand il croit me renseigner.
Pourquoi m'empêcher de grandir avec mon temps,
Pourquoi me faire croire que la vie n'est qu'une suite de bon temps.
Ne vois tu pas sur mon visage comme j'ai mal,
Comme je ne te crois pas quand tu me parles d'espoir.
Ne vois tu pas cette ambition qui me ronge,
cette envie de faire parti de ceux qui ont marqué le monde.
Selon vous je vois trop haut, j'ai des envies démesurées,
Arrêtez de voir trop bas, ne chercher pas à nous tuer,
Laissez moi libre sur terre et dans ma tête vous êtes fait donc ne faites
pas de moi ce que vous êtes.
(Refrain)
Hôpital d'Orsay, 1995,
J'étains en train d'agoniser,
Moi je n'ai pas osé le flingue.
Tout en douceur j'ai gobé mes cachets,
En douceur je partais me cacher tout la haut...
Mélanie, petite fille fière et bonne élève
a tenté de fuir la vie à coup de somnifères sur les lèvres...
Mélanie, si forte aux yeux des gens, marquée à vie par son trop plein
d'intelligence...
Les jeunes comme moi savent que nous ne sommes pas comme eux,
Peut être que l'on en sait trop,
Peut être que l'on ne vaut pas mieux,
Mais ce qui est sur c'est qu'on voudrais devenir quelqu'un, quelqu'un de
bien parce que nous repartons de rien,
Et peut être qu'un jour on pourra regarder nos mères et leur dire pardon de
ne pas avoir su te rendre fière.
PS : Ce que j'ai fait s'appelle une T.S.
Pour certains un S.O.S, pour d'autres une preuve de faiblesse
Youtube link:
"Au ohni Wort eifach schön."
Aber vilich wot s'Bärbäli öppis dezue säge?
The monkey sat on a pile of stone
And stared at the broken bone in his hand
Strains of a Viennese quartet rang out across the land
And the monkey looked up at the stars
And he thought to himself
Memory is a stranger
History is for fools
And he cleaned his hands in a pool of holy writing
Turned his back on the garden and set out for the nearest town
Hold on hold on soldier
When you add it all up
The tears and the marrowbone
There's an ounce of gold
And an ounce of pride in each ledger
And the Germans killed the Jews
And the Jews killed the Arabs
And the Arabs killed the hostages
And that is the news
And is it any wonder that the monkey's confused
He said Mama, the President's a fool
Why do I have to keep reading these technical manuals
And the joint chiefs of staff
And the brokers on Wall Street said
Don't make us laugh, you're a smart kid
Time is linear
Memory is a stranger
History is for fools
Man is a tool in the hands
Of the great God Almighty
And they gave him command of a nuclear submarine
And sent him back in search of the Garden of Eden
The soldier came knocking
upon the queen's door
He said, "I am not fighting for you any more"
The queen knew she'd seen his face someplace before
And slowly she let him inside.
He said, "I've watched your palace up here on the hill
And I've wondered who's the woman for whom we all kill
But I am leaving tomorrow and you can do what you will
Only first I am asking you why."
Down in the long narrow hall he was led
Into her rooms with her tapestries red
And she never once took the crown from her head
She asked him there to sit down.
He said, "I see you now, and you are so very young
But I've seen more battles lost than I have battles won
And I've got this intuition, says it's all for your fun
And now will you tell me why?"
The young queen, she fixed him with an arrogant eye
She said, "You won't understand, and you may as well not try"
But her face was a child's, and he thought she would cry
But she closed herself up like a fan.
And she said, "I've swallowed a secret burning thread
It cuts me inside, and often I've bled"
He laid his hand then on top of her head
And he bowed her down to the ground.
"Tell me how hungry are you? How weak you must feel
As you are living here alone, and you are never revealed
But I won't march again on your battlefield"
And he took her to the window to see.
And the sun, it was gold, though the sky, it was gray
And she wanted more than she ever could say
But she knew how it frightened her, and she turned away
And would not look at his face again.
And he said, "I want to live as an honest man
To get all I deserve and to give all I can
And to love a young woman who I don't understand
Your highness, your ways are very strange."
But the crown, it had fallen, and she thought she would break
And she stood there, ashamed of the way her heart ached
She took him to the doorstep and she asked him to wait
She would only be a moment inside.
Out in the distance her order was heard
And the soldier was killed, still waiting for her word
And while the queen went on strangeling in the solitude she preferred
The battle continued on
texte
Iron-clad feather-feet pounding the dust
On octobers day, towards evening
Sweat embossed veins standing proud to the plough
Salt on a deep chest, seasoning
Last of the line at an honest days toil
Turning the deep sod under
Flint at the fetlock, chasing the bone
Flies at the nostrils plunder.
The suffolk, the clydesdale, the percheron vie
With the shire on his feathers floating
Hauling soft timber into the dusk
To bed on a warm straw coating.
Heavy horses, move the land under me
Behind the plough gliding --- slipping and sliding free
Now youre down to the few
And theres no work to do
The tractors on its way.
Let me find you a filly for your proud stallion seed
To keep the old line going.
And well stand you abreast at the back of the woods
Behind the young trees growing
To hide you from eyes that mock at your girth,
Youre eighteen hands at the shoulder
And one day when the oil barons have all dripped dry
And the nights are seen to draw colder
Theyll beg for your strength, your gentle power
Your noble grace and your bearing
And youll strain once again to the sound of the gulls
In the wake of the deep plough, sharing.
Standing like tanks on the brow of the hill
Up into the cold wind facing
In stiff battle harness, chained to the world
Against the low sun racing
Bring me a wheel of oaken wood
A rein of polished leather
A heavy horse and a tumbling sky
Brewing heavy weather.
Bring a song for the evening
Clean brass to flash the dawn
Across these acres glistening
Like dew on a carpet lawn
In these dark towns folk lie sleeping
As the heavy horses thunder by
To wake the dying city
With the living horsemans cry
At once the old hands quicken ---
Bring pick and wisp and curry comb ---
Thrill to the sound of all
The heavy horses coming home.
Iron-clad feather-feet pounding the dust
On octobers day, towards evening
Sweat embossed veins standing proud to the plough
Salt on a deep chest, seasoning
Bring me a wheel of oaken wood
A rein of polished leather
A heavy horse and a tumbling sky
Brewing heavy weather.
Heavy horses, move the land under me
Behind the plough gliding --- slipping and sliding free
Now youre down to the few
And theres no work to do
The tractors on its way.
(Norah Jones)
Angels falling through my hair
I want to meet them tomorrow
Angels falling through my hair
I want to meet them tomorrow
(Wax Poetic)
Gade kijan n'ap mache
gade kijan n'ape cheche demen
Nou pa men'm gen couraj
Men l'anj-lan ap desann
Pou ba nou couraj
Pou'l ka ba nou fos
Pou nou ka travay
Lap ban nou fos
Pou nou ka rive jus kote nou prale
(Voices of Norah Jones and Wax Poetic overlapping)
Angels falling through my hair
I want to meet them tomorrow
Meet them falling through my hair
I want to meet them tomorrow
Menm si ou we ou pa we demen
Wap toujou rive byen lwen
Piga'w rete cheche
Mache, mache
Nap rive byen lwen
Paske nap we demen
Lap ba nou couraj
Pou'n ka we demen
Lap ban nou couraj
Pou nou ka cheche
Nan tout kote ke nou ale
Nape jwen tout sa'n cheche
Paske l'anj-lan...