Fado To The Citadel

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    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.

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