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.