I know that it's a trap, a game for the well-to-do boring spirits.
The boat is made of glass, The armor made of sand
What's real in that sensual journey, in those imaginary smiles
Feelings with no objective sense but true echo of the mind
Is it worship or love of own illusions, Where's the reality in this sharing ?
Like crying for a movie, Like laughing for a book
A weird interaction born from smugness ?
An Imminent fustration born from absence ?
Anonymous hearts can collapse dreams, give in to confidences
Though a certain impotence, it gives life a sense, erases solitude
Impalpable things, Imaginary links, amplified by the secrets
A weaved cloth towards fantasy, intensified by the lack
One day or another, wings should be displayed
To live the carnal love, to break the barriers of virtual
The risk of disappointment, the reward is plenitude
Like facing your demons again and again.
Tout ce qu'on vit comme sentiment, comme passion, tout est fantasme. On est d'autant plus attaché à son rêve qu'il s'agit d'un rêve. Parce que renoncer à un fantasme est bien plus facile que renoncer à une réalité qui s'achève …
Homo Erectus : In difference ...
Homo Abilis : Lymphatisme
Homo Sapiens : Love 2.0
Homo Economicus : Obsolescence
Even in its prettiest, most celestial moments, the South Dakota trio's sound feels dark and dense and deeply rooted. Bandcamp Album of the Day Aug 24, 2021