Every wicked hour
For every living soul
For my pain that shatters
Shadows me down to my grave
I’m lashed by grief and I’m killing me
Help me please
Take my hand
Blow air into my soul
Pour blood into ma vein
Fill me up with your pain
The soul is crying
Calling your name
Your filthy name
you can’t hear the cry
You can’t answer the prayers
You’re dead my love!
The show for tonight is over, our icon jumps to bed to end an endless night.
With a million whistles in his ears, disturbing his thoughts. He swims through the void again. Feeling content for what he had on his night.
Flashback, our icon is a star. He’s a rock star, memorizing every single word that Jimmy said to an extent. On his first appearance about ten years ago, on stage. The hall was crowded everybody gazed and said oh young boy, he’s acting as Jimmy. Oh the boy did not, he was just influenced by the deceased musician.
Mocho was in addition of being a star, was a real hero, a medieval knight who rules with his sword and fist! He could not find himself in the fake world and territories of the fools around.
We stepped into that room, vast room with young people inside, it was loud everything been loud. He looked around for something to drink he grabbed coffee that he likes and walked around, watching every single movement from every single peasant around. He could not shutdown that brain cell, he always fails to.
Anyway as he looked into the empty faces around he goes back in time, 13 years ago when the soul entered him! And occupied his body. It’s not that sort of myth about a genie or some daemon, it’s about heaven and hell!
Heaven that he lived and hell that he went through, the soul is a friendly soul, it taught him plenty of things about many things. He gasps and lights a ciggy enjoying his arrogant smoke in the crowd. He walks, he talks and he smiles. Yes he finally manages to smile despite of what is on his mind but he smiles. And this is the hardest thing for him to be.
The night rolls on, he gets back to his car with eyes wide open and full concentration, throttle, he drives back home. Into his sanctuary to end up a worthless story that never happened!
14/March/2008
Horns and sirens all over the streets, our man out of a football game. A winner as he always has been!
Took a ride, then met his favorite foe!
They stepped into a place, steps takes you down. Out of the nosy world!
The man: hey bud, would you like some wine tonight
The foe: yes dude, I always liked
The man waves to the servant, servant approaches in his wild tight leather robe.
Yes master, said the servant.
Bottle of Obelisk, ordered the man.
They sat, they talked, say laughed! And after a while a call was made. The man got to rumble again!
He drove his car, out in the wild. Music played in the background.
The man started singing, marijuanaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.
The next said something in the way…. Something in the way
The man looked around, nothing on his way! What a fool!!!
He made a call, ended up in a few. He drove by some friends looked at them and moved into his sacred asylum this is a no-mans land, only he could go there!
He took two glasses of water by his side, drank one and refilled it.
He went to bed, while the song rings in his head Marijuanaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. Wondering for all night where she gone! thinking of the day that gone.
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