To see within is to feel without a light
Who’d have thought that we’d break the things we like?
To find a stone just to bounce across the pond
Is the path it makes, that’s a clue to other songs
Her hair curls in the damp of the night
The scent recalls like a photograph with life
Her hair, it curls in the depth of the night
The scent recalls like a photograph with life
To live without is to live under a spell
Who’d have thought that we’d turn our home to hell?
To find a bone and to float it down the stream
It’s the path it takes that’s a clue to many greens
Her hair curls in the damp of the night
The scent recalls like a photograph with life
Her woollen coat under yellow sodium lights
Records the air like a memory of night
Her hair curls in the damp of the night
The scent recalls like a photograph with life
Her woollen coat under yellow sodium lights
Records the air like a memory of night
*************************************
Δυσδιάκριτα τα όρια ποίησης και στιχουργικής, ενδεχομένως να μην υπάρχουν- και γιατί να υπάρχουν; Στο τραγούδι “Curls” o Bibio μας θυμίζει ότι πρέπει να υποδεχόμαστε την ποίηση, σε όλα τα περιβάλλοντα, με όλες τις πιθανές μελωδίες, δίχως δισταγμούς και υποκριτικές επιφυλάξεις.
Τα μαλλιά της μπουκλώνουν στην υγρασία της νύχτας/το άρωμα θυμάται σα ζωντανή φωτογραφία.
