19/02/2015

War everywhere


Nice to be back home. Overwhelmed with scary news though.
I miss Bristol, a place where people care about making their environment a better place and their community live and interact better together.

I have to write about Bristol today, about its "kid" Tricky tomorrow and his music, about Nigerians in England too, then I feel we'll have to move on to those very "current affairs" topics.

War everywhere...

Let's pay attention to the situation in Libya, in Syria of course, in Nigeria - especially in its North, and Niger, in Tunisia, and in Ukraine. South, East, North, all in turmoil.

Like a Cassandre, I'll wait and see but can't we already hear the sound of this?

--

Today's anthem then:

"I know the drill, got cells to burn, I'm dressed to kill
A mortal coil and time is still on secret soil
Yeah, pay the bills, cells to burn, mouths to fill
On Boeing jets in the sunset make glowing threats"...





Massive Attack, "Atlas Air", 2010, from the album Heligoland


--

Lyrics:

Yes, shall we take a spin again in business?
This time is fixed, let's sweeten our facilities
It took all the man in me
To be the dog you wanted me to be

Shall we take a spin again, no witnesses?
This time is fixed seven three seven is
You won't feel a thing
Begging until you give it up insane

Fish like little silver knives
Make the cuts on my inside
Yeah, let him feast my heart is big, my heart is big
My blood will slide in metal studs

Tourniquet will hold its groove
Tourniquet will keep its grip
It took all the man in me
To be the dog you wanted me to be

Yeah, let him feast my heart is big
My heart is big, my blood will slide
You let him feast my heart is big
My heart is big, my blood will slide

Got nothing to lose but my chains
Internet feeds on my brains
Head in the sand, feet in the clay
And time is still like grease it slips
Sucking in, spitting pips, yeah, spitting pips

Nothing to lose but my chains
Internet beats on my brains
Head in the sand, feet in the clay
A place to piece, a place to pray

A little money should get me on my feet
This gun of smoke is slaying me
And time is still like grease it slips
Sucking in, spitting pips, yeah, spitting pips

My heart was big and like my pride
Let them feast on my insides
And when the filled had spilled its guts
Gently open then it shuts

I'm in the hole three thousand days
A buried soul
They live the dream in terminal
No war too mean

I know the drill, got cells to burn, I'm dressed to kill
A mortal coil and time is still on secret soil
Yeah, pay the bills, cells to burn, mouths to fill
On Boeing jets in the sunset make glowing threats



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