Le Synthédiseur, Synthé d\'Ici et d\'Ailleurs

Le Synthédiseur, Synthé d\'Ici et d\'Ailleurs

The Holes

The Holes

Composition, Synthesizeurs, Text, mixing and Graphic-Art by Pierre Rosique

The Holes.jpg

Lyrics

 

Mistress, No Stress, Don’t Drive me in Distress.

I remember, The Blackboard, your pink skirt, this white butterfly on the curve of your breast 
The stage and you in the middle, your light and calculated steps,
You chant cabalistic formulae of an inquisitive look:

Ax2+bx+c multiplied by Epsilon of Nothing.

Mistress, No Stress, Don’t Drive me in Distress.

Don't forget the holes.

You shine a quite asymptotic sweetness.

The room is full but we are only two,

You and me, drunk with your words.

You said:

An equation to find a way for your hand?

Mistress, No Stress, Don’t Drive me in Distress.

You draw pleasant trajectories, sweet and bright curves, circles of fire, with your hands shaken as fan, your eyes restrained as eventualities, your arms stretched out towards stars.

Mistress, No Stress, Don’t Drive me in Distress.

Please draw me a shade to hide my emotion.

You clear the picture of fusing arabesques, I put in it sense and questioning.

You look at me, you ask me:

 are you there? Are you very here?

You understood holes resumed me.

I have to live with the Holes.

 



27/07/2016
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