The Movement - The Ladder - 12 - Solaris: The Unity of All [S01]

De corazon frio apuestas de pie

The More Grace He Gives

Auf zur letzen Runde

**Écoute...** est une chanson comme une caresse lente, un piège doux, un fil qui s’enroule sans jamais céder. Écrite en vers de huit pieds avec des rimes parfaites, elle épouse le souffle même du *Boléro* de Ravel, dont elle ne se contente pas de parler — elle l’évoque, elle l’incarne.

Ce n’est ni un hommage ni une explication. C’est une incantation.

Car le *Boléro* n’a pas besoin d’être raconté : il se ressent. Il rampe, il s’élève, il envoûte. Une seule phrase musicale, jouée dix-huit fois, avec une orchestration qui se déploie lentement comme une peau qu’on découvre. Pas de rupture, pas de surprise, mais une tension qui monte, irrésistible. Un crescendo qui devient vertige. Cette chanson s’en inspire avec la même économie, la même obstination, la même volupté.

Les paroles d’**Écoute...** sont murmurées d’abord, comme un secret, comme une respiration entre deux soupirs. Puis elles s’épaississent, gagnent en chair, en nerf, en souffle. Elles ne disent pas « Écoute Ravel », elles le suggèrent. Elles n’imposent rien — elles séduisent. Chaque mot est choisi pour son grain, sa vibration, son pouvoir évocateur. L’auditeur est invité à se laisser prendre, à suivre cette voix qui parle d’un désir sans nom, d’une musique qui revient, d’un feu qui rôde, d’une boucle qui se referme.

C’est une chanson qui ne raconte pas une histoire — elle provoque une sensation.
Elle n’explique pas le *Boléro* — elle en prolonge l’empreinte.

La composition musicale qui l’accompagne, pensée dans l’esprit du chef-d’œuvre de 1928, respecte la lente montée de tension caractéristique : une rythmique obstinée, un motif répété, des instruments qui s’ajoutent couche après couche, comme un corps qui s’éveille. Les textures orchestrales, les silences, les infimes variations participent à cette mise en transe.

C’est une déclaration à l’obsession, à la lenteur, à l’attente.
C’est une offrande au silence qui précède le cri.
C’est une invitation au vertige.

**Écoute...** est le mot-clé, l’entrée secrète.
La chanson n’est qu’un seuil.
Derrière, il y a le Boléro.

ECOUTE

Falling back to you

Il vinto

On An Empty Downtown Street
(c) J. Murdock McInnes Vasey

[intro]

[instrumental]

On an empty downtown street
Moving slowly in the rain
The wipers swishing out a beat
The whole world is on retreat

A few more blocks and I'll be there
Why I'm going I don't care
I look up to the third floor
Do I dare, up to your door

[bridge]

I only want what I can't have
And what I have is of no use
Whatever dreams I may have had
Long ago they all went bad


[instrumental]

I don't even try to stop
And go by the parking lot
My hands shake, I grip the wheel
One more time around the block

Three times now, that's enough
Time to drive and keep on going
All I have is in this car
Up ahead they say it's snowing

[bridge]

I only want what I can't have
And what I have is of no use
Whatever dreams I may have had
Long ago they all went bad


[instrumental]

I only want what I can't have
And what I have is of no use
Whatever dreams I may have had
Long ago they all went bad

On an empty downtown street
Moving slowly in the rain
The wipers swishing out a beat
The whole world is on retreat

[instrumental]

[outro]

On an empty downtown  street (eswing)

I Nailed a ‘KEEP OUT’ to the Door

---

[Verse 1]

You left your jacket on the kitchen chair
Like your silence still had the right to live there
Drawers half open, your cologne in the sheets
Like I’d trip on the scent and fall back at your feet

Your toothbrush sat like a dare on the sink
You always did bet I’d forget how to think
But I boxed it all up with your ghost and your grin
And sent it to hell with a postage pin


---

[Chorus 1]

I nailed a ‘KEEP OUT’ to the door
With every swing I said, “No more!”
Took back my name, my body, my floor —
Scrubbed you out the walls, out the wood, out the core
No key, no knock, no sweet metaphor
I nailed a ‘KEEP OUT’ to the door

(Gang vocals: “YEAH YOU DID!” / “TELL ‘EM!”)


---

[Chorus 2]

I nailed a ‘KEEP OUT’ to the door
With every swing I said, “No more!”
Took back my name, my body, my floor —
Scrubbed you out the walls, out the wood, out the core
No key, no knock, no sweet metaphor
I nailed a ‘KEEP OUT’ to the door

(Gang vocals explode: “PREACH!” / “SAY IT AGAIN!”)


---

[Verse 2]

Hung fresh curtains in the bedroom light
Burned sage where your silence used to bite
Took back my playlist, my perfume, my tea
Put the mirror back facing me

Painted over all the fingerprints
Found joy in the quiet and how it hints
Lit candles on the window ledge
And danced barefoot on the edge


---

[Bridge] (Pulls back to bass and organ)

I didn’t believe it the first time I said it
My voice cracked, my soul still begged for credit
I lit the match with a trembling hand
Whispered “keep out” to an empty man

Slept in the corner the first few nights
As if the bed still owed you rites
But grief makes a liar out of truth’s face
So I lied ‘til it sounded like grace


---

[Final Chorus] (Full power returns)

I nailed a ‘KEEP OUT’ to the door
With every swing I said, “No more!”
Took back my name, my body, my floor —
Scrubbed you out the walls, out the wood, out the core
No key, no knock, no sweet metaphor
I nailed a ‘KEEP OUT’ to the door

I nailed a ‘KEEP OUT’ to the door
And turned my silence into a war
Lit up the rooms that you left sore
Sang till the echo became my roar
Danced on the floorboards like never before
I nailed a ‘KEEP OUT’ to the door


---

[Outro – Call & Response over groove]

Lead: I kept the rhythm, you lost the rhyme
Gang: Left that ghost back in time!

Lead: I ain’t your echo, ain’t your chore
Gang: She nailed a KEEP OUT to the door!

Lead: I made this fire, I fed this flame
Gang: You lost the right to say my name!

Lead: I sang alone 'til I shook the floor—
ALL (shouted):
I NAILED A ‘KEEP OUT’ TO THE DOOR!


I Nailed a ‘KEEP OUT’ to the Door

I write the lyrics; Mr. Alfonso Suno composes the music.  Working with the lovely Ms. Ai Ongaku, they create the arrangements.  Ms. Ongaku and her crowd are responsible for the performances.  My part in creating these tracks is very small.  I am, however, solely responsible for selecting them.

On an empty downtown street (eswing)

I and Ai

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