ALL ABOUT EVE

Look into my eyes 
Remove all lies and deceit
That aura of purity betrays diabolical anomalies 
And you know what I mean
And what I need

And yet you’ll have the cheek
To call facts mere chance events
Greed and duplicity conspire with the utmost cruelty
And you know what I mean
And you know that lying doesn’t right a wrong

You’ll cry and stage the umpteenth drama
With tears running down your burning cheeks
Eve 
And you’ll swear to God and on your mother that it’s not your fault
As the tears come running down

Look into my eyes
Remove all lies and deceit
Eve
That aura of purity reveals diabolic anomalies 
And you run from the awful monster
You’ve created
Sleep that brings no rest

You’ll cry and stage the umpteenth drama
With tears running down your burning cheeks
Eve 
And you’ll swear to God and on your mother that it’s not your fault
As the tears soak your silk shirt

Believe me it was an evil spell
The work of witchcraft
I was not in possession of my faculties

And you’ll cry and stage the umpteenth drama
With tears running down your burning cheeks
Eve 
And you’ll swear to God and on your mother that it’s not your fault
As the tears come running down

Mary Chain was patiently waiting her turn to receive holy communion.
That Sunday Jesus Christ on the cross looked even more sorrowful than usual.
The old priest had been absolving his flock 
Of the usual sins for more than twenty years.
Jesus Christ on the cross looked somewhat disheartened 
By those small town vices
Above all the uncontrollable desire to resort
to buttered, baked and ready-to-eat gossip
What delicious morsels and petty titbits to tickle the appetites of the vulgar
With their big, asbestos-lined mouths, stinking like stagnant pools.

Jesus Christ on the cross
Seemed more bothered by those abominations than by the nails  

Mary Chain you know what it feels like
To have a lump in your throat.
Choking back tears of rage and bitterness
Because of wrongs you never committed.
And you’re still serving an unfair sentence 
In the gloomy circle of malicious gossip.
And you wonder whether your name 
was more an omen than a spiteful trick.

Mary Chain didn’t know how to react
When the priest refused to give her holy communion
And in her pain she smothered an unspoken amen 
along with her humiliation.
According to an ancient proverb 
in the long run all lies become truths

Jesus Christ smiled indulgently almost in disbelief.  
 
Mary Chain you know what it feels like
To have a lump in your throat.
Choking back tears of rage and bitterness
Because of wrongs you never committed.
And you’re still serving an unfair sentence 
In the gloomy circle of malicious gossip.
And you wonder whether your name 
was more an omen than a spiteful trick.

Into the third month of her hysterical pregnancy
A soft maternal glow could already be seen on her face
She would say: Maddalena would make an original name
And Sofia too and if it’s a boy, Vincenzo Maria.

In the sixth month of hysterical pregnancy
Everybody thought it best not to trouble the truth
Assailed by remorse for having pressured her 
Into having a baby while still fertile

As she awaited the joyful event that would never take place
She bought maternity clothes and an old-fashioned wooden cradle 
Her eyes spoke of the immeasurable happiness of sweet expectation

In the ninth month of hysterical pregnancy
Everybody was still keeping up the illusion out of cowardice
It was just a matter of time before that regrettable misunderstanding
For which only she was to blame would be clear to her.
As she awaited the joyful event that would never take place
She could feel it move with superb grace
Like a performing trapeze artist
Her eyes spoke of the immeasurable happiness of sweet expectation

As she awaited the joyful event
She already had everything planned
The priest, the Christening, the hospital
From the old-fashioned wooden cradle 
To a selection of musical boxes.

Slowly, magically,
Sweet expectation,
Sweet expectation

Much has already been said
And daring words won’t feed illusions:
Winter is knocking at the door.
A guest just returned from a long journey
Hungry glances begging for a little taste
Of other people’s lives.

Before dawn
we might be caught
Carried away in the arms of Morpheus 
To where clear waters devour our footsteps on the shores of our dreams

They surround us, move closer with a watchful pace
like beasts lying in wait
Run away, Romeo from the tyranny of time
It is not the nightingale’s but the lark’s song
Voracious looks pounce shamelessly
on that noble repast

Before dawn we might be caught
Carried away in the arms of Morpheus 
To where clear waters devour our footsteps 
Before dawn we might be caught
Carried away in the arms of Morpheus 
To where clear waters devour our footsteps 
on the shores of our dreams

The slope of abandonment is steep and treacherous.
The good Lord above, devastated and compassionate,
is unresponsive to human richness and misery.
Oblivion shall reign supreme as a precious remedy for the 
helplessness and cruelty of a shameful farewell
unexpectedly inflicted by one who pledged loyalty.
But a warm wind will herald the return of better times.

The good Lord above, devastated and compassionate,
is unresponsive to human richness and misery.
Oblivion shall reign supreme as a vile expedient for the 
helplessness and cruelty of a shameful farewell
unexpectedly inflicted by one who pledged loyalty.
But a warm wind will herald the return of better times.
But a warm wind will herald the return of better times.

But a warm wind will shape the severity of harsh winters.

She could be seen every morning 
In her green coat and eccentric red shoes
For nearly twenty years at the window
With a rosary at her breast and a prayer in her throat.
She could be seen every morning walking up to the postman
And returning disappointed by
A 20-year wait for news that can only be termed painful.
It was as if an angel had come to visit her
He had big eyes and a cortege of clouds
Encircling huge white wings

Through the pitiless passage of time
She nurtured the hope that her son, missing in action, would return.
During the afternoons at the window
She would fix her eyes on a spot contended by boredom and bliss

It was as if an angel had come to visit her
He had big eyes and a cortege of clouds
Encircling huge white wings
Heavenly features, big intense eyes
The custodians of a sad farewell

It was as if an angel had come to visit her
He had big eyes and a cortege of clouds
Encircling his huge white wings
Heavenly features, big intense eyes
The custodians of a sad farewell 

They call it popular consciousness
and it is an unusual fever that
Offends reason and feeds the ideals of equality
I will not let this hideous epidemic infect the spirit
of the people, I will spread terror among them
And brandish my sceptre against rebellion

The night looks on but offers no advice.
It drags dismay and oppressive hours along with it
In pitch black darkness like rage and agony 

His majesty seeks peace and quiet among silk pillows
Searching for the sleep of the just
Among  precious marble and frescoed ceilings
Looking for an oasis of spiritual peace 

I will not give this unruly mob any means of escape.
A dog that has already bitten his master
will try and do it again one day.

Night is like falling and having nothing to hold on to
The screeching friction of nightmares and regret
A vacuum with no air, no hope, no clarity of thought

His majesty seeks peace and quiet among silk pillows
Searching for the sleep of the just
Among  precious marble and frescoed ceilings
Looking for an oasis of spiritual peace far enough away 
To forget the brutality imposed to demand blind obedience

His majesty seeks peace and quiet among silk pillows
But the sleep of the just is the domain of 
a kingdom called clarity  of conscience.
He will come to a compromise with God.
And by building shrines studded with diamonds
He will obtain leniency and the faculty
To reverse the meaning of the commandments.

Orire ni t'agbado
orire ni t'agbado
orire ni t'agbado
Agbado rin hoho wa le

Orire ...

Ile aye wa
Edje amoura si
Ile aye wa
Itche gbogbo wa ni

Cradle me more than ever
wrap me up in a warm hug
talk to me more than ever
feed me 
Mother Earth

Orire...

Cradle me more than ever
wrap me in a warm hug
talk to me more than ever
feed me 
Mother Earth

Sometimes hot summer nights
wear an exotic smile
like a joyful and intense Africa
violated, abused and offended
maternal and fierce 

Cradle me more than ever
wrap me in a warm hug
talk to me more than ever
feed me 
Mother Earth

Orire...

Dear Mr Waver it’s not easy 
To take responsibility for your choices   
Even to use your own words 
Wear a disguise and live bathing in reflected glory 
Deep in the murky waters 
Of  despicable lies and deceit 
Inferiority complexes and  
Cumbersome delusions of grandeur. 

Mr Waver it’s nothing to be ashamed of  
Never knowing how to hit the target
Having hopelessly missed the mark for the umpteenth time,

And it doesn’t really matter if 
Your wife does nothing but cry 
Obsessed by the suspicion of your many infidelities 
She swallows her pain and confusion with excessive doses of tranquillizers.

Feeling downhearted has become a habit, Mr Waver  
Not living up to your own ambitions  
Having to elbow your way to stand out from the crowd.
Ignorance is a considerable complex to have, 
An abyss that can be covered up in silence 
dodging the danger of facing a mild form of direct confrontation. 

Mr Waver it’s no disgrace  
to have no talent, 
to be forever trying not to miss the boat

And it doesn’t really matter if 
Your wife does nothing but cry 
Obsessed by the suspicion of your numerous infidelities 
And quite frankly she’s not entirely wrong  
And it’s no coincidence that 
Friends, lovers, and dreams all disappear 
The dog on the balcony has been waiting for months 
For the privilege of being taken for a walk and yet 
every evening he’s faithfully and ecstatically happy you’re home 
And it doesn’t really matter if 
Your wife does nothing but cry 
Obsessed by the suspicion of your numerous infidelities 
And quite frankly she’s not entirely wrong  
And it’s no coincidence that 
Friends, lovers, and dreams all disappear 
The dog on the balcony has been waiting for months 
For the privilege of being petted 
And meanwhile  your daughter asks you  
Why life is so miserable.

The thought suddenly strikes me
Wiping out all modesty and defence.
I had suffocated that stupid inclination 
for taking flights of fancy and
spending time heartrendingly and heroically waiting
And I’ll survive this lack of oxygen
Despite treacherous streams I shall reach
the bottom of the abyss amid the ancient splendours
Of a world submerged for thousands of years.
I stupidly feared the immense, merciless beauty,
The depth in your eyes.

This thought makes my awakening sweet
Shaking me out of my stupor, the usual sluggishness.
Lost fragrances come to life again amid enchanted mountains
Great expectations swept away by the fury of stormy oceans.
Surrounded by a miraculous atmosphere
Meanwhile Atlantis
Smiles and looks at us amicably.
In the depths of the abyss, ancient splendours 
Of a world submerged for thousands of years
I stupidly feared the immense, merciless beauty,
The depth in your eyes.