Contemplative Blues
THAT SENSE OF DESTINY, THAT SENSE OF DESTINATION
THAT I'VE LOST...
THE FILTER OF MY OWN IMAGINATION
I TRUSTED MOST...
BUT NOW, IN MY PRESENT INCARNATION
I'M OUT OF KILTER, LIKE A GHOST.I DIDN'T PAY FOR REASON:
I SPENT SO MUCH ON CHANCE
IT USED TO MAKE A LOT OF SENSE
IN THE BEGINNING OF THE ROMANCE
WITH THAT UNHOLY CITY,
WHERE EVEN THE DEAD CAN DANCE
WHERE I CAN SMELL THE DECADENCE
WHERE YOU'RE SO YOUNG AND PRETTY
OOH, BABE, I SPENT SO MUCH ON CHANCE...AND THEN I BUILT A PRISON:
I WAS OBSESSED WITH SELF DEFENSE
IT USED TO MAKE A LOT OF SENSE
IN THE BEGINNING OF THE OFFENSE
I WAS ALERT AND BUSY...
BY NOW THAT THREAT SEEMS SO OBSCURE
BUT I DON'T FEEL MUCH MORE SECURE
MY CASE IS DIFFICULT TO CURE
I MEAN, IT AIN'T EASYOPEN MY EYES, BABE
OPEN MY EYES...QUIETLY LEAKING OUT OF PRISON
THROUGH NARROW CRACKS IN MY MENTAL FENCE
I'M SAYING "HI" TO COMMON SENSE
I'M SAYING "BYE" TO INNOCENCE
AND I AM TRADING CHANCE
FOR REASON
SO...LET'S CELEBRATE THAT WE ARE FREE
NOT TOTALLY, BUT TO A DEGREE
LET'S HOPE THAT WE'LL BE NO LESS FREE
IN THE UPCOMING SEASON.THAT SENSE OF DESTINY, THAT SENSE OF DESTINATION
I CANNOT FIND...
THE ENGINE OF MY SELF ANNIHILATION
IS WORKING FINE
BUT, BABE, IN THE FUTURE INCARNATION
YOU WILL BE MINE !..
© 1993 Yuri Naumov