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One Step Ahead
(Shuddering) They kept coming back
Each time with different names and different stories
But always with that same blankness
Crawling beneath their skin
Faces pulled taut by snarls wearing the costume of grins
A phantom mien which reached across a crowded room
They would slip little notes
Into open doors and open hands
No one ever saw them going about on their dark business
Their shadows walked on a higher plane of existence
You tried to tell them boldly:
“Prepare for a crash landing!”
But they only sneered
At your spark of hope, as it smoldered out, beneath a clump of ash
Their sighs inhuman, like deflating balloons
When gun or hot breath was pressed
To the back of their pale necks
They are the Hollow Men
You first began to die
When the little, red clown sitting in the corner of the room
Pointed out the thousands of eyes
Twinkling in the ceiling of your bedroom
You tried to tie a noose from the handkerchiefs
Which he kept pulling from his laughing mouth
But you ended up tangled
In the ringing sound
Of his taunts
Their taunts
What’s left to trust
Drains from your closed fists
Whenever you shove it right under somebody’s nose
He never knows who’s in on it
You know to what I’m referring
The plan, the game
Your prison
Your life (now, that is)
So take his hand, will you, you pretty daughter of the outside?
Run away together, or try, at least
All the while
They are idly checking the hourglass
Which floats behind their unblinking eyes
It’s measuring the sands of time
Until somebody has to really die
So will you retire?
Or will you keep creeping down in that Cadillac
Through the sounds of gunshot in the nighttime streets?
Whatever you decide
They will be watching
And grinning
Because they always stay one step
Ahead of the game
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This article has 35 comments.
Je dois utiliser l'ordinateur en bas effrayant, cependant.
Je vois que vous pouvez poster des commentaires une fois de plus.
Il perdute significato delle parole sarà orbita il mondo sconosciuto.
Io stesso sono, ma a volte è difficile cantare su di esso.
(Ik begin me af te vragen hoeveel er verloren gaat hier door vertaling.)
Because I look at hundreds of blank faces, whenever I go into the city at night. And sometimes I wonder:
Is there anything else?