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    Revelling/Reckoning: Revelling Disc 2001 ©

    Tamburitza Lingua

    a cold and porcelain lonely
    in an old new york hotel
    a stranger to a city
    that she used to know so well
    bathing in a bathroom
    that is bathed in the first blue light
    of the beginning of a century
    at the end of an endless night

    then she is wet behind the ears and wafting down the avenue
    pre-rush hour
    post-rain shower
    stillness seeping upwards like steam
    from another molten sewer
    summer in new york

    they've been spraying us with chemicals in our sleep
    us / they
    something about the mosquitoes having some kind of disease
    them / me
    CIA foul play
    if you ask the guy selling hair dryers out of a gym bag
    chemical warfare
    "i'm telling you, lab rat to lab rat," he says, "that's where the truth is at"
    that's where the truth is at
    that's where the truth is at

    and everything seems to have gone terribly wrong that can
    but one breath at a time is an acceptable plan
    she tells herself
    and the air is still there
    and this morning it's even breathable
    and for a second the relief is unbelievable
    and she's a heavy sack of flour sifted
    her burden lifted
    she's full of clean wind for one lean moment
    and then she's trapped again
    caged and contorted
    with no way to get free
    and she's getting plenty of little kisses
    but nobody's slippin' her the key

    her whole life is a long list of what ifs
    and she doesn't even know where to begin
    and the pageantry of suffering therein
    rivals television
    tv is, after all, the modern day roman coliseum
    human devastation as mass entertainment
    and now millions sit jeering
    collectively cheering
    the bloodthirsty hierarchy of the patriarchal arrangement

    she is hailing a cab
    she is sailing down the avenue
    she's 19 going on 30
    or maybe she's really 30 now ...
    it's hard to say
    it's hard to keep up with time once it's on its way

    and, you know, she never had much of a chance
    born into a family built like an avalanche
    and somewhere in the 80s between the oat bran and the ozone
    she started to figure out things like why
    one eye pointed upwards looking for the holes in the sky
    one eye on the little flashing red light
    a picasso face twisted and listing down the canvas
    of the end of an endless night

    10 9 8 seven six 5 4 three 2 one
    and kerplooey
    you're done.
    you're done for.
    you're done for good.
    so tell me
    did you?
    did you do
    did you do all you could ?

    2001 ©

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