Kovoko

Katafiti

Number One

Distance

I’m taking my time.
Hear that ringing in my ears.
I’m cleaning my gun.
I’ll be the sum of all your fears.

And If our paths should cross one day,
You better look away, my son,
And keep your mouth shut.
Now I’m cleaning my gun.

I can’t think straight.
Feel that tingling on my skin.
It may be too late
To stop the fire within.

Put me in a straitjacket.
You really messed up. Run!
I’m gonna do it. Fuck it!
Now I’m cleaning my gun.

I try to calm my shaking hands
Holding a cigar.
The memory of you burns like a brand.
It burns like a glowing scar.

God poured love in my heart.
It’s glowing like the sun.
But the Devil put my hand on the trigger,
And loaded my gun.

A million vile and angry thoughts I’ve had.
A million …
A million hours I’ve spent irate or mad.
A million…
A million ways I’ve cursed your name, I swear!
A million …
A million times I’ve been a millionaire.

Hmmm…

Breathe in, keep calm. 
Pray to God and His Son.
Breathe out, easy now.
Put down the gun.

Throw away all the bullets.
One by one.
You’ve caught your eye on the barrel
Glistening in the sun.

words and music
Blazej Wiśniewski

Cleaning My Gun

Follow the Halo Throughout the Shadow, like it's Shallow.
You cannot get Water from Rain if you fear Thunder.
If you cry for the Mouse, just know the Predator shall feed.
Go Shallow! 

Shallow

Away

Spirit_Box

Jesus Christ has left his home
And he got lost 
On a Polish country road.

The sun will rise and shine
In his eyes -
Those welled up lithium skies.

His heart is beating faster.
He may make no sense.
His face of alabaster
Is resting in his hands.

The Pope has frowned 
And called it fraud.
The statue paid no heed,
Frozen still and awed.

A lightning bolt 
Has pierced the skies,
And left a glowing mark
Right between his eyes.

His calcite face is beaming.
The stern facade has thinned.
He’s laughing and he’s screaming,
And running like the wind.

Through fields of wheat and honeysuckles,
The scent of cream and strawberry,
Through orchards of green Polish apples.
He’s roaring like the Baltic Sea.

Jesus Christ has left his home
And he got lost
On a Polish country road.

words and music by 
Błażej Wiśniewski

Polish_Country_Road

The storm has soaked me to the skin.
Above my house there’s a flying saucer.
The ceiling’s cracked and paper thin.
My room is filling up with water.

Now lift me, don’t let go.
I’m scared of the fall.
Encircle the moon glow
With ultramarine like
Chagall.

I slip through your fingers
And brace for the fall.
There’s no fear that lingers.
There’s nothing at all.

I’m glowing red, I pierce the sky
I lose the shirt, I’m getting hotter.
I guess I’ve never learned to fly.
It gets so quiet when I hit the water.

Now exhale and hold tight.
There’s no going back.
The shimmering moon light
Is fading to black.

Stop trying - you know how.
Descend all the way
Abandon all hope now
And keep it at bay.

Cold water
Cold water
Cold water
Cold water

Now carried by a restless stream,
I feel I’ve kissed the gunner’s daughter.
I cannot breathe, I try to scream.
My lungs are full of salty water.

words and music
Blazej Wiśniewski

Chagall

What Kind of Friend Am I

On my way to pick up groceries I’m assaulted by the blankness
The corner he once softened now a hard expanse of pavement
I knew him as Moses, he was from a far-off place
But now he’s gone I realize, I never asked him his last name

He sold me papers, pet my dog, asked me ‘bout my swimming
I kept it light and breezy, wry one-liners, always grinning
But I’m at a loss for words now that I hear he’s been detained
What kind of friend am I, I never asked him his last name

Every day that empty corner silently accuses me
I had a deep bench of excuses, see
He kept trying to engage me in a friendly conversation
I declined his invitation
Friendship leads to expectation, judgement and to blame
Best avoid the obligation, and continue on my way
Sneakin’ through the side door to avoid his searching gaze
It’s hardly a wonder that I never learned his name

I went to ICE and asked for Moses, tell me is he there?
I need to tell my good friend that we’ll help him, that we care
Moses who? they said, come on now, we have hundreds here in chains
Are you really such good friends if you can’t tell me his last name?

The neighborhood was up in arms, poor Moses was so kind
He helped us cross the crosswalk and discouraged petty crime
Put wallets in the lost and found, but we lost him just the same
‘Cause none of us ever took the time to ask him his last name

Every day that empty corner silently accuses me
I had a deep bench of excuses, see
He kept trying to engage me in a friendly conversation
I declined his invitation
It’s ok, it’s not just me, everybody here’s the same
We’re all so friendly but we don’t know anybody’s names
Is our neighborhood camaraderie really just a sheen?
Our community frayed while we looked away, staring at our screens

The corner he once livened now a dead and empty space
I turn my face but I can’t escape the burning glare of shame
Oh I can try to spit out the bitter grit but the hint of guilt remains
What kind of friend am I if I never learned his name




What Kind of a Friend Am I

tedorio