Liriche asciutte, potenti, affrante, speranzose, senza speranza, figure chiare, metafore oscure, sentimenti, lavoro di rick rubin in sottofondo, rime, parole ritmate, battiti di cuori, cuori infranti. Bellissimo.
“Le parole non sono scolpite nella pietra”, ma pezzi come firesmoke o people’s faces ti prendono e ti portano via.
Se le classifiche avessero un senso, sarebbe il più bello del 2019 (scusate bruce, nick, jack e jnr)
Visualizzazione post con etichetta kate tempest. Mostra tutti i post
Visualizzazione post con etichetta kate tempest. Mostra tutti i post
29 marzo 2020
Kate Tempest, The book of traps and lessons (2019)
28 marzo 2020
13 marzo 2020
Kate tempest, Let them eat chaos/Che mangino caos
Il testo di questo album
Liriche taglienti, profonde, amare, rappate, un flusso di pensieri e una tempesta di emozioni
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Of all these people in all these houses,
only these seven are awake.
They shiver in the middle of the night
counting their sheep mistakes.
Is anybody else awake?
Will it ever be day again?
Is anybody else
awake?
Will it ever be day
again?
(p. 24)
The buildings are screaming
I can't ask for help –
nobody knows me.
Hostile. Worried. Lonely.
We move in our packs
and these are rites we were born to
Working and working
so we can be all that we want,
then dancing the drudgery off
But even the drugs have got boring.
Well,
sex is still good
when you get it.
To sleep, to dream, to keep the dream
[in reach.
To each a dream.
Don't weep, don't scream.
Just keep it in,
keep sleeping in.
What am I gonna do to wake up?
(p. 43)
It’s 4:18
Pete’s fourteen doors from home.
His thoughts are like a pack of starving dogs,
Fighting
over
the
last
bone.
(p. 72)
The sickness of the culture
and the sickness in our hearts
is a sickness that’s inflicted
by the distance
that we share
Liriche taglienti, profonde, amare, rappate, un flusso di pensieri e una tempesta di emozioni
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Of all these people in all these houses,
only these seven are awake.
They shiver in the middle of the night
counting their sheep mistakes.
Is anybody else awake?
Will it ever be day again?
Is anybody else
awake?
Will it ever be day
again?
(p. 24)
The buildings are screaming
I can't ask for help –
nobody knows me.
Hostile. Worried. Lonely.
We move in our packs
and these are rites we were born to
Working and working
so we can be all that we want,
then dancing the drudgery off
But even the drugs have got boring.
Well,
sex is still good
when you get it.
To sleep, to dream, to keep the dream
[in reach.
To each a dream.
Don't weep, don't scream.
Just keep it in,
keep sleeping in.
What am I gonna do to wake up?
(p. 43)
It’s 4:18
Pete’s fourteen doors from home.
His thoughts are like a pack of starving dogs,
Fighting
over
the
last
bone.
(p. 72)
The sickness of the culture
and the sickness in our hearts
is a sickness that’s inflicted
by the distance
that we share
22 febbraio 2017
09 giugno 2015
Kate Tempest, Everybody Down (2014)
street poetry from brockley, uk.
Everywhere is monsters
Tits out, wet-mouthed, heads back
Shouting and screaming just to prove they exist.
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