Amber (or, when the crests and troughs even out amid sinusoidal and systematic confusion): a resigned list of moments frozen in time and space.
lyrics
Here’s a quote from Slaughterhouse n°5, a book about the present, a book I really like.
“Why me? Why you? Why us for that matter? Why anything?
Because this moment simply is. Have you ever seen bugs trapped in amber?”
Well, here we are, Mr. Pilgrim,
Trapped in the amber of this moment.
There is no why, there is no problem
Lingering on this endless process.
With lots of doubts, and lots of promises
Here we are again
Like a young trilobite whose fossil won’t tell
If it truly was made to sustain all that hell
Like a dinosaur skull who thinks of itself
Suspended between lime and mud and dirty clam shells
Like Ötzi the iceman, whose expression won't change
Like a badly stuffed saber-toothed, so frozen in rage
Like hand silhouettes who slap the bare rock
You growl and you swear to wear out the shock
Like rules made of clay in the British museum
Each cut is an action that stretches through eons
Like paintings and jewels, aligned for devotion
A glass case constrains their spellbinding potion
Like capitals and columns, wood thresholds and bricks
Like tourist resort islands, that float upon sticks
Like anything that neatly piles up derelicts
You’re part of a giant mega hyper structure but probably just a quick fix
Like photos of players all perfectly aligned
In albums of stickers whose blanks are to find
Each pack of new faces sealed up undefined
Its complete collection belongs to a mastermind
Like queens in a deck that hope to hold hands
Like domino tiles that aim to push back
Like a pawn in its black square, all proud in defence
You cheer and rejoy for what could come next
Like Heisenberg said, he wasn’t that sure,
The moment you look at it, you make it impure
Position, momentum, will hide and endure
Your intrinsic qualities are something obscure
Like atoms and bosons so fast but quite still
They don’t have a clue their host’s mentally ill
As part of a giant slug without living will
His memories are looping like a water mill
Well, here we are, Mr. Pilgrim,
Trapped in the amber of this moment.
There is no why, there is no problem
Lingering on this endless process.
With lots of doubts, and lots of promises
Here we are again.
credits
from Beresheet,
released June 27, 2020
Federico Delfrati
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