Thursday, October 19, 2006

The Other One Bites the Substance (Queen)

Language: Dutch

Working with two serious handicaps this morning, which may affect the quality of posting, or at least proofreading. The first is that my monitor, after a few weeks of randomly expanding and contracting the view of my desktop by small amounts, yesterday decided to shrink the whole thing in half horizontally. (The monitor would be the "other one" referenced in the title, which "bit" the "substance.") So to me, as I type this, all these letters are very very small and skinny and difficult to read. A new monitor is en route, even though I can't really afford to buy one, and this is depressing.

Handicap number two is that I have gotten sick, again. In some ways this wasn't surprising, since I get a cold- or flu-like thing in September or October every year, and since people are remarkably indifferent about covering their faces when they sneeze or cough in a checkout line, I didn't have much hope of avoiding illness through lack of exposure. Which just so you know: cashiers are people too, and if you wipe snot on your hands right before handing dollar bills to the cashier, you really shouldn't be surprised when the tomato sauce goes on top of your eggs and bread. You deserved worse.

So I feel like crap, is the point, and I can't really see what I'm writing.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Steve runs warily below the street,
below with the manner of the low-drawn edge.
No sound sounded, but his feet ain't
machine guns, or ready.

Are you ready,
are you ready for this?
Are you on your edge, or the seat that
hangs the balls from the opening? By
the sounds, it cracks to the beat.

The other one bites the substance,
the other one, the substance.
And another one goes to be bitten, and another one goes,
and the other one bites the substance.
Hey, am I gonna get you also?
The other one bites the substance.

You are happy, you are satisfied:
how long will you can the heat?
Be yourself, from opening the door's balls
to the sound of the crack beats.

The other one bites the substance,
the other one bites the substance,
the other one bites the substance,
the other one, the substance.
There is an abundance of you people. Manners can bite, hurt,
and bring them to the ground.
You can beat him badly,
you can deceive him,
you can treat him, and he'll leave
when he has something below,
but I'm ready: yes, I'll manage for you.
I'm myself, on my own two feet,
opening the door from the balls
to the repeating sound of tearing beats.

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