la tentation du vide, seul au bord du quai
une accolade torride, la politesse du « mais »
je reste sur le banc à agiter mon mouchoir
comme un drapeau blanc qu’on a brandit trop tard
le bateau qui s’éloigne, le cafard qui m’empoigne
j’ai embrassé un gardien de prison
assassiné un rêve à l’horizon
on s‘y met sur le tard, on croit toujours bien faire
sans baisser sa garde on reste propre et fier
j’ai arrêté de croire au moins jusqu’au prochain verre
je fantasme comme une merde, je détourne le regard
le bateau qui s’éloigne, le cafard qui m’empoigne
j’ai embrassé un gardien de prison
assassiné un rêve à l’horizon
chaque minute d’attention détournée
chaque larme salée retenue finalement
tombée dans mon verre
je me force un peu plus à chaque gorgée
un peu comme ton ressentiment
face au reste de la terre
j’arrêterai de boire quand l’inertie
viendra de mon propre sang
j’arrêterai de croire qu’on est décent
tu peux vomir en m’embrassant
noyer mon amour propre
dans ton vin à peine digéré
même le chat le plus asocial
ne se contente pas d’une seule caresse
tous les quelques mois.
The rats are in the corn again, and our faith’s been all but shattered. The cat’s in the cradle, fast asleep, his lungs in ragged tatters. But living will is to mercy kill as standing still is to going backwards. We’re being fucking dragged there. When “protect and serve” tastes like a curse and the baton swings by default, we don’t need a goddamn weatherman to know on whom the rain falls. All the resolve of a dead dog’s bite. All the brilliance of a thousand points of light. Swallow your words and try to keep your voice down. Truth for a truth. Lie for a lie. Let the bastards spend 10,000 restless nights, every hair on the back of their necks alive with the burning glare of grieving mothers’ eyes, in no short supply. Agent provocateurs: Rats in a cheaply sewn disguise. If you’re lucky, they’ll let you foot the bill for the mace that’s in your eyes. But big enough carrot, long enough stick and we’ll swear we’re immune to the sting of the whip and chomp at the bit of scraps they’ve cast aside. Tooth for crooked tooth. Eye for blind eye. Let the bastards hang 100 stories high. Serve as shade from the glare of the harsh sunlight for those they saw as merely rungs on which to rise, on the wings of flies.
Maybe the best advice I ever got was to always dress for the job you want. So I spent 2 bucks on a ghost costume, made a torch of a sawdust covered broom and went out looking for a place that I could haunt. With the Black Lodge Boys Choir singing hymns so low and sweet to the bastard sons of boredom and defeat. For what felt like a second, it was Black Lodge Boys uber alles. We annexed Snoqualmie and made short work of Ft. Worth and Dallas. Had a vision at 1919, hindsight, 20:20 behind us. At least the nights were brilliant, if the mornings were blinding. And if that waitress, off the 85, is still slaving there, please treat her nice. A cup for each of us, cause Jesus, what a night. Let her know that she was half right, cause we ain’t driving spikes, but we’ve been making fucking tracks alright. For what must’ve been ages, it was Black Lodge Boys uber alles. We annexed Snoqualmie and made short work of Ft. Worth and Dallas. Had a vision at 1919, hindsight, 20:20 behind us. At least the nights were brilliant, if the mornings were blinding.
2e album du projet solo de Antho (bassiste de Guerilla Poubelle) Astucieux et inventif le lascar nous offre un punk rock en français jubilatoire et intime. GUERILLA ASSO
Les petits malins virtuoses d'INTENABLE arrivent à éviter le piège de la surenchère en pondant un album efficace à souhait, frais et surprenant sans jamais faire tourner la tête. GUERILLA ASSO
MAG est de retour : 13 titres sauvages et convulsifs. La musique se fait plus polymorphe, flirtant avec le crust ou le black metal, le chant de Fanny reste agressif et maitrisé comme jamais ! GUERILLA ASSO