City of Glass

"We didn’t recognize the patterns, they weren’t shinning in bright neons, like those places by Chelsea, the ones where the hookers dwell. Closing Time. Like hobo signs, the markings on fences, posts, sidewalks, buildings. The other ones, the ones who know, were trying to help me, to help all of us, in this City of Glass. silently. It took my memories away. In the City of Glass. There were patterns I should have seen before, painted with invisible ink on the vast windows of this City of Glass. anymore. It cuts like glass, my rusty razorblade. From inside the blood runs free and spatters the glassy window. In The City of Glass and Steel. The Virus got into my mind, Glass. The Virus won’t spare me, They will find me, They, from the other side of this image reflecting shards of Glass. My mirror image is ghastly, abominable. I cannot stand this The buildings around all reflecting the light, like a City of Glass. All seems normal, all seems perfect, but not last night. It was a mirror-like image of this same City. The light shone through the window, in a way you seldom see. There were strange reflections from the sun above. A spider’s web on the windowsill, caught droplets of morning dew. Closing time."

Mais um ficheiro áudio do blogue Long Goodbye (este em inglês para variar... se parece estranho é porque foi submetido à cut-up machine...)