Paroles Fado to the citadel Defdump

Fado to the citadel

Camera sets on a vast industrial surrounding, the
Corrosed buildings of the mining companies try to tell
Us the story of a forgotten era
5 minutes from there an old chapel's been turned into a
Cafe called, halfway to the stars. - halfway to the moon,
Halfway to the Methadon program... halfway to the
Stars... halfway to the moon
Poets, poets they say are visionaries that have left
This town a long time ago - they took the cars, the
Trains, the metaphysical airplanes
To the stars or to anywhere else but far away from this place....
So we are hasting down a deserted walking mile of
Closed shops and architectural try-outs
Our cities they have lost their hearts and their souls,
Last train has left town a long time ago.
Our cities have become the cages we have built
Ourselves intoxicated by the smell of black air and an
Indoctrinated sense
Of happiness and beauty and what It's supposed be, not
What it`s meant to be.
The everyday, the everyday wears the same colours as
These dusty buildings, some kind of a grey but then again
You can recognise the colours that used to be
Underneath it, a friend of mine used to fill these
Alleys with an acoustic guitar and a sad fado
Tune just as desperate and lonely as these alleyways,
These uncrowded boulevards and the lives behind these dusty walls.
I've reached him on his phone, he told me he went
South, he traded our cities for beaches and palm trees.
He traded the noises of one million cars and the beats
Of machines for the rythm of the waves that come
Breaking in against the shore.
And the melody of leaves that wave when carried by the breeze.....
As a boy I walked these city streets with that sad song
In my ears when a lost friend plays the soundtrack of a youth gone by
We close our eyes and we feel that there's gotta be something more
To the grey streets of the citadel, closed shopping
Malls and dirty old walls,
If we keep on searching We'll be finding the reasons to
Wake and to face this grey everyday
The winds will be turning to one day blow your way - so
To the boy that walks the city streets of desperate town:
We all walk with that hope in our hearts that this is
Not all that we will ever know and if we gave all we
Had we will get what we came for.