Yoo this is fire fam, Diggin the vibe heavy and the vocals lit #DOPE

thank you good music dont understand the language mayby its a mother looks for her son but he lost his memory

@user-674311787 What a wonderful message. Thank you very much. Touching the Soul of the listener is our mission. Thank you for appreciating this piece. Thank you very much!!

"Up in the Gallery" (German: "Auf der Galerie") is a short piece of fiction written by Franz Kafka. It was created between November 1916 and February 1917 and published in the collection „Ein Landarzt“ (A Country Doctor) in 1919. The story offers two versions of a scene in which a young man watches a circus ringmaster and a woman on horseback. (Wikipedia)

The picture shows a section of: At The Circus Fernando, The Rider
by Henri Toulouse-Lautrec (1888)

Public domain translation by Ian Johnston (November 2003)                     


Up in the Gallery

If some frail tubercular lady circus rider 
were to be driven in circles around and around 
the arena for months and months 
without interruption 
in front of a tireless public 
on a swaying horse 
by a merciless whip-wielding 
master of ceremonies, 
spinning on the horse, 
throwing kisses and swaying at the waist, 
and if this performance, 
amid the incessant roar 
of the orchestra and the ventilators, 
were to continue into 
the ever-expanding, gray future, 
accompanied by applause, 
which died down and then swelled up again, 
from hands which were really steam hammers, 
perhaps then a young visitor to the gallery 
might rush down the long stair case 
through all the levels, 
burst into the ring, and cry “Stop!” 
through the fanfares 
of the constantly adjusting orchestra.


But since things are not like that,
(Since things are not like that…rep.)         

since a beautiful woman, in white and red, 
flies in through curtains 
which proud men in livery open in front of her, 
since the director, 
devotedly seeking her eyes, 
breathes in her direction, 
behaving like an animal, and, as a precaution, 
lifts her up on the dapple-gray horse, 
as if she were his grand daughter, 
the one he loved more 
than anything else,
as she starts a dangerous journey, 
but he cannot decide to give the signal with his whip 
and finally, 
controlling himself, gives it a crack, 
runs right beside the horse with his mouth open, 
follows the rider's leaps with a sharp gaze, 
hardly capable of comprehending her skill, 
tries to warn her by calling out in English, 
furiously castigating the grooms holding hoops, 
telling them to pay the most scrupulous attention, 
and begs the orchestra, with upraised arms,
to be quiet before the great jump, 
finally lifts the small woman down from the trembling horse, 
kisses her on both cheeks, 
considers no public tribute adequate, 
while she herself, leaning on him, 
high on the tips of her toes, 
with dust swirling around her, 
arms outstretched and head thrown back, 
wants to share her luck with the entire circus—
since this is how things are, 
the visitor to the gallery puts his face on the railing and, 
sinking into the final march as if into a difficult dream, weeps, 
without realizing it.  (rep.)

Up In The Gallery (Kafka, 1919)

Recorded at Young Thugs Studio York

Lyrics 

We're faded the sleepless nights heat up the crowd
While we sailing
our eyes can see our final town
We're finding ourselves to loose the way
We're waiting we're waiting

Feels like our lives are jaded
Feels like we're wasted breaking free
And hope is turning into anarchy

There's no denying now
Nobody will know
No no no nobody will know

So we sailed up the river into Amsterdam
Where I left my heart forgot who I am
Crimson lights burning right down into our soul

Crazy inside the belly of the beast
invaded, we're out of touch to say the least
We're loosing ourselves to find the way
We're praying not preying
Feels like our lives are iaded
Feels like we're wasted breaking free
And hope is turning into anarchy

There's no use trying now
Nobody will know
No no no nobody will know

So we sailed up the river into Amsterdam
Where I left my heart forgot who I am
Crimson lights burning right down into our soul

Do you feel it, when she calls you home
Are you dying for a crowded place with her
Do you feel it, when she calls you home
For it's there you can be alone with her
Do you feel it, when she calls you home
Are you dying for a crowded place with her
Do you feel it, when she calls you home
For it's there you can be alone with her

So we sailed up the river into Amsterdam
Where I left my heart forgot who I am

So we sailed up the river into Amsterdam
Where I left my heart forgot who I am
Crimson lights burning right down into our soul
So we sailed up the river into Amsterdam
Where I left my heart forgot who I am
Crimson lights burning right down into our soul

Amsterdam

Flip-flops with socks is the new Band formed by Anam Hermit and The Italian Job

Atlante
Mi son specchiato ho visto 2 occhi tristi
tu mi hai cercato e allora li ho cambiati
fingo di stare bene che resisto
tu che stai male allora ne parliamo

e dentro ho l'anima che guarda Cristo
ed io ci provo ad essere cristiano
ma è dura in questo mondo di teppisti
fare silenzio al centro del baccano

e chi ama lo fa solo per quello che ho  dato
come la patria che innalza il soldato caduto
sono l'eroe che s'immola se serve il mio aiuto
ma se non posso una volta mi togli il saluto
e quante volte ti ho risparmiato un dolore taciuto
ed ho ingogliato sorsi di lacrime solo e abbattuto
la vita che mi vuole al tappeto è un campione di judo
mi tiro su a fatica e mi credi capace si tutto

la verità è che sono stanco e mi sento invisibile
e avere un attimo di tregua mi sembra impossibile
e non ti accorgi che soffro che l' ho passato il mio limite
e ti ho protetto dal mio pianto fingendo di ridire
   
e pianto tanbto che le lacrime ormai sono insipide
e se mi vedi la scusa che sono sensibile
e dico va tutto bene quand'è tutto orribile
e quando chiedi la luna rispondo è fattibile

quando da un secolo non dormo piu
passo le notti a fare i conti con la sorte, le sconfitte e le scadenze
e tu che chiedi sempre un po di piu
e guardi altrove quando prendo il mio veleno
 dici leggi le avvertenze 
ed ogni giorno sembra un  dejavu
e sono fermo nella scena e non la so cambiare
e non c'è un finale al mio dolore in loop
non ho piu niente ma continuo a dare

Flip flops with socks - Atlante

élite - a r r

élite

Glad everyone has enjoyed Netdiver, I hope you all enjoy the remix!
ORIGINAL HERE
https://soundcloud.com/d1g1tal-kn1ght/netdiver?utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing

Nostromo [First Contact] (Netdiver Remix)

Super Magic

Insane

Definition

Hello Mama # 01==Gene Jumper, ( Original )

hello mama

Music : 2013
Lyrics : 2018
Remix : 2023

All instruments, all vocals, drums programming, etc : Al

Photo from personal archives. In the foreground, my ancestor, buried and left for dead for several hours on the Alsace front in 1916.

Lyrics :

I am a man, in a trench,
Here the Germans, there the French,
I'm still alive, is that luck ?
How to survive the clusterfuck ?

Mud and water everywhere,
Smelling powder in the air,
Corpses around as context,
Unready to bound, who is next ?

For a long time I've been waiting
For the end of the killing.

Holding the breath, for shooting,
Going to death while charging,
Whistling bullets, raining bombs,
Sounding trumpets, and crying moms.


Desolation, absent god,
No desertion, firing squad,
Cannon fodder, Sacrified,
Angry masters, satisfied.

For a long time I've been waiting
For the end of the killing.

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐅𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫

Lions-And-The-Thundercats

Elop Lions-And-The-Thundercats

Contact e mail carlocovarelli@gmail.com
I make music using my smartphone, but now i started to use a PC program called Reason. I have been trying to express my love for music since I was born. I fed on the words and sounds of Italian singer-songwriters, Italian and international rock; later I was completely seduced by electronic music. Starting from
Jean-Michel Jarre I tried to go back to the fathers
such as Oskar Sala, John Cage, Karlheinz Stockhausen. At the age of 12 I started DJing in the middle of the vinyl era and growing up I became a Resident DJ in several Italian Clubs. I started producing electronic music many years ago, but today what I want to do is play with the least amount of technology available. So know that everything you will hear I did with the use of my smart phone and Reason. Everything comes out of there. I want to take my creativity to the limit and I really hope you enjoy what I do.

Flip flops with socks - Atlante

The Italian Job (Scribes of Avalon)

Recent comments

The Italian Job (Scribes of Avalon)

Alex

Anam Hermit

Anam Hermit

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