Six Fingers in One Hand, She Holds the Dawn (Part II)

In the horizon
She is so alone
She searches for what was left behind
She yells, she cries
Her hands are full of dust and blood

Far, far from that scream
Six fingers in one hand, she holds the dawn
Far, she seems so far, so far

You, flesh of my blood
Blood of my flesh
You never fall asleep
Over my dead body

Il a vécu tantôt gai comme un sansonnet
Tour à tour amoureux insoucieux et tendre
Tantôt sombre et rêveur comme un triste Clitandre
Un jour il entendit qu'à sa porte on sonnait
C'était la Mort! Alors il la pria d'attendre
Qu'il eût posé le point à son dernier sonnet
Et puis sans s'émouvoir, il s'en alla s'étendre
Au fond du coffre froid où son corps frissonnait
Et quand vint le moment où, las de cette vie
Un soir d'hiver, enfin l'âme lui fut ravie
Il s'en alla disant: Pourquoi suis-je venu?

Go baby, don't worry
'Cause there's no other
Escape

Go baby, don't worry
'Cause there's no other
Escape

Go baby, don't worry
'Cause there's no other
Escape

Horizon is full of faces
They yell
They yell for someone who's gone
No light
Their body is burnt
No hand
No mouth
They yell for someone who can remember
What they were

Six fingers in one hand, she holds the dawn
Six fingers in one hand, she holds the dawn

In the horizon, those faces
They yell for someone who can remember
What they were

L'homme est malade parce qu'il est mal construit
Je ne suis pas fou!
On a réinventé les microbes pour imposer une nouvelle idée de dieu
Alors vous lui réapprendrez à danser à l'envers et cet envers sera son véritable endroit

A saving madness
Cast by leafless trees
Caution the Sun filtered to smoking ruins
From an austral of unburied dead gods
Cool shadows fall over strong ideas
Cutting off the edge of time

An object is the result of looking at something which, in itself, has no quality or charm
I pick something which in itself has no meaning at all
I disregard completely the aesthetic quality of the object
I'm against craftsmanship
I say the world is full of wonderful craftsmen but there are very few practical dreamers
In the early days in Paris, when I first came over
And I passed by a hardware shop and I saw a flatiron in the window
I said: There's an object which is almost invisible, maybe I could do something with that?
What could I do to add something in it that was provocative?
So I got a box of tacks and glued on a roll of tacks to (it)
To make it useless, as I thought, but nothing is really useless
You can always find a use even for the most extravagent object