Cenários Tipográficos 7

Fragments

Nice big trouble room in house with door

Em alta perseguição à Lua

As nossas obsessões constroiem-nos.
O que nos rodeia não passa de um esforço.

De tudo o mais me limpo.
Termino aqui a minha perseguição ao Sol.
O meu nome é Ju.

"When seeking the object of its fulfillment the demands of desire exert a strange power over external phenomena, tending egoistically to admit only that which can serve its purpose."
ANDRÉ BRETON

Nem bem cenários nem bem tipográficos

Everything is starting to blur and I don't care

Gathering treasures from everyday's life
Making things sharper

Although sometimes to feel is to feel blurred
I understand it now as part of the process of I
Part of me, part of you, is floating in the air
On the top of the oceans
On the top of you
One day everything will fall into place
And there will be no reason not to be
No reason not to fall
No reason not to float
No reason not to sink inside me, inside you
5 days, 5 years, 5 nights, 5 balloons
What the fuck is time, anyway

Cenários Tipográficos 5

A senhora

Aquela que era considerada uma entidade religiosa absoluta, passou nos dias de hoje a ser a figura burocrata abstracta generalizada.

- "A senhora" disse-me que devia ir comprar o formulário b45 e entregar no guichet 5.
- Mas olha que "a senhora" do outro lado não me disse nada disso!
- ring ring: Oh minh"a senhora"! Diga lá então como é que é?

As senhoras.
Ambas poderosas e omnipresentes.

la la la! You don't see me fly into the red.

Open books of memory with no regrets
Trying to make it work
Any piece of me to work
Any other pieces to digest

Make it work
Make it work
Make it work

Go together to that point
Me and my ghosts
Where I can drop them
I'll throw you all from the top of my wishes
Make them scream
I'll make you all scream really loud

lalalala lalalalala

She said she died a hundred times.

Happiness

Happiness yeah
Happiness is like tv
On or off
It's up to me
Happiness yeah
Relationships
Are like a cow
Growing strong
Just for now
Poor little cow
Mom and dad
Are like my head
I won't listen to them
Until they're dead
Or I'm dead
Sad but true
Sad but true
Self indulgence
Inconsiderate bitch
Inconsiderate bitch
You're nothing more than this girl
C'mon everybody, sing
Pain and sadness
Are real to me
They stick around
And let me be
Give it up
Try again
Give it up
Try again
Ain't life fun?
LISA GERMANO

paper moments

No more perfect random moments
Brief flashes of happiness
I've collected them all from the past

Linear frame for paper butterflies
Don't tear them apart

The day before you came

I must have left my house at eight, because I always do
My train, I'm certain, left the station just when it was due
I must have read the morning paper going into town
And having gotten through the editorial, no doubt I must have frowned
I must have made my desk around a quarter after nine
With letters to be read, and heaps of papers waiting to be signed
I must have gone to lunch at half past twelve or so
The usual place, the usual bunch
And still on top of this I'm pretty sure it must have rained
The day before you came













I must have lit my seventh cigarette at half past two
And at the time I never even noticed I was blue
I must have kept on dragging through the business of the day
Without really knowing anything, I hid a part of me away
At five I must have left, there's no exception to the rule
A matter of routine, I've done it ever since I finished school
The train back home again
Undoubtedly I must have read the evening paper then
Oh yes, I'm sure my life was well within its usual frame
The day before you came













I must have opened my front door at eight o'clock or so
And stopped along the way to buy some Chinese food to go
I'm sure I had my dinner watching something on TV
There's not, I think, a single episode of Dallas that I didn't see
I must have gone to bed around a quarter after ten
I need a lot of sleep, and so I like to be in bed by then
I must have read a while
The latest one by Marilyn French or something in that style
It's funny, but I had no sense of living without aim
The day before you came

And turning out the light I must have yawned and cuddled up for yet another night
And rattling on the roof I must have heard the sound of rain
The day before you came

ABBA

Bicho bicho

Adriana

Cenário tipográfico com muito dramatismo