Sync Different

We're at point blank,
Tomorrow back to back,
We're standing face to face.
I could paint a new sky
On a winding sail,
You're walking on a land
that I no longer claim,
I will pass on ,
Just like a bird,
A swift soul,
Up in a cloud of dirt.
And I'll be leaving these muds
On a stream of words.
My love is not a spell,
And yours is not a curse
I got for you no golden ring,
I got for you no golden ring,
I got for you no golden ring,
And I don't really have another day
It's not for you, the golden ring
It's not for you, the golden ring
It's not for you, the golden ring
No, I don't even have another day
Your eye's won't blink
When staring at my back
When I won't see your face.
I found a shining blue sky,
For my winding sail.
I'm walking to the land,
The one I've always claimed.
You will pass on,
Just like a girl,
A sweet song,
Down in a pile of dirt.
I'm just weaving these words
To the screams of hers.
My love is not so well,
And yours is not much worse.
I got for you no golden ring,
I got for you no golden ring,
I got for you no golden ring,
And I don't really have another day
It's not for you, the golden ring
It's not for you, the golden ring
It's not for you, the golden ring
And I don't even have another day

Rat a tap tap;
Oh don’t you come and ask;
Am I a coming back?
The sky has gone black on us.

Don’t you weep –
Blame myself for these things
Known I was stronger than he –
And all you weaklings knew it.

Toodle loo;
They all abandoned you
One bruised and another screwed,
But I was the only loved.

Oh, Hannah Leah …
I was the only love.

Keep that bed.
Now brother, keep that rug.
Lord knows I was given so much –
And the devil keeps me fed.

On the wall. On the stove –
And in the blank book you draw –
There are signs of Hannah Leah
There are signs of our love.

Oh, Hannah Leah …
There are signs of love.

On a black, blue night
I go a wandering:
Out over Houston –
Along Avenue A.
Hannah Leah
On Avenue A.

Ku Klux Klan;
There’s evil in every man.
Come love her when you can –
And see about Hannah Leah.

LES ANGESÉtaient-ce les humeurs de l’automne Mélancolie des feuilles sous les ormes Était-ce la couleur de l’air, la douceur de l’eau Tout ce qui fait encore danser les roseauxÉtait-ce la béance de ton cœur
La triste précision des longues heures
Ou était-ce le fond du temps, le fond des gens, Profondément, les vivants...?Il est trop tôt ce soir
Au bord des battants noirs La lune n’a pas eu le temps De dissuader le vent.Était-ce la hauteur des étoiles
Qui ont soudain hissé leurs grandes voiles Emmenant avec elle, les fées
Dérobant la brillance de l’étéLes angesÉtait-ce l’insouciance du hasard Que l’on a vu sortir trop en retard Et qui sous ta fenêtre a oublié L’appel du temps, l’éternité.Il est trop tôt ce soir
Au bord des battants noirs La lune n’a pas eu le temps De dissuader le ventÉtait-ce la figure du triste monde
Colère de la mer qui monte
Était-ce le fond des villes, les ports trop loin L’indifférence de chaque matin.Était-ce l’impuissance de tes peurs
Les mains vides de sens, dans l’ampleur Adieu le sort, adieu l’exil
Adieu l’existence tranquille.