Rédigé par Jean-Christophe le 02/08/2016

Non contents de gagner la coupe d'Europe de football, les portugais jouent du rock progressif et font des clips. Découvrez l'éningmatique 'Fish Dissected' de Daymon que nous avons chroniqué il y a peu.



"Ephemeral flowers and root words
Floating nowhere, where I wish I were
For moments just

The wind turned south in the night sky
Set the dormant town adrift on a waft of
Ancient air

In restless dreams of Egypt,
Nothing but the circle of my heart enclosed,
In the warm womb of my mouth

The tiny summer of the lamp – in the dark blue of the room,
On the warm side of the window – it came as no surprise

When a fish swam by to materialise
The dampness of my woollen trousers,
My hair, my lead-clad eyes.

Waiting out until one day, the sea, the sea recedes,
Return us to the light of day, all urgency is gone

Cause time’s become finite, every yard’s short
By twenty-five hours it’s short
Now's the one andoOnly word … I can handle

Blind stumble, hooks of berries in the corner bruises of the lips
As the sky weeps brutal purple, pours tar on scorching pores.

Stumble blind, and onward we plunge on with the globe,
Pinned painfully into the uncaring geography of life
As time hurts us to the bone
Time hurts us to the bone
Hurts us to the bone"