The Mysterious Roads (U2)

Language: Russian

This one's the last of the Roads Trilogy ("The Daily Winding Road," "We Were the Road," "The Mysterious Roads"), though there may be more roads popping up in the future; they just won't be part of the trilogy. You know, I haven't had a good trilogy in quite a while. The X-Men movies, I guess, would be my last one, and "good" is kind of a stretch there. There should be more trilogies in the world, I think. But I digress. Enjoy the song:

-Jessi

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Johnny's taking a jaunt with your sister's moon;
its pale, light room is prevented from filling you up inside.
You live illegally. They
ate from the can, and
you run away from the love. You don't understand.

She's slippy:
you slip down.
She'll be there when you strike the earth.

It's all right, it's all right, it'll all be right by her.
(He moves onto the mysterious roads.)
It's all right, it's all right, it'll all be right by her.
(He moves onto the mysterious roads.)

Taking Johnny diving in the rain with your sister;
he let her talk. You cannot explain about things.
The contact, in order to cure it, must . . . .
To hurt it one must steal.
If you want to kiss the sky better, learn to kneel more.

of (on your boy of elbows)

It'll be by a wave,
she who turns its tide.
Man sees it inside the child of – ?

It's all right, it's all right, it'll all be right by her.
He moves onto the mysterious roads.
It's all right, it's all right, it'll all be right.
He moves onto the mysterious roads.
It's all right, it's all right, it'll all be right.
Lift days of my nights; illuminate upward.

One day you will look,
and you will see rear.
You held them
by this love, where
we could stand you. (Thus far.)
We could move you there; at this moment,
you follow this feeling.

It's all right, it's all right, it'll all be right by her.
He moves onto the mysterious roads.
It's all right, it's all right, it'll all be right.
He moves onto the mysterious roads.
It's all right, it's all right, it'll all be right.

We move through the spirit's motions
in mysterious roads of the miracle days.
Which is she? She moves with it,
she moves with it. Lift my days,
my nights: illuminate it upward.

We Were the Road (Barbra Streisand)

Language: Russian

(This is the second song in my "road" trilogy.)

Here Barbra informs us that "Memories may be beautiful, yet too heavy, to recall in sequence." It's so true. Once time I had a memory that weighed nineteen pounds, and I never ever remembered it in sequence. It was all unstuck in time, like Billy Pilgrim. Crazy shit. A couple times I think it was even somebody else's memory. So Barbra is a pretty wise chick. Let's all take her words to heart:

-Jessi

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Memories
Like angles of my reason –
memories and misty watercolors.
We were expensive,
the scattered images
of leftward smiles,
after we gave the smiles to one another,
for we were the road.

Can it be that it was so whole, simply after this,
or did time rerecord each line?
If they made a chance, they'd do all of us again.
Tell me about us. Could we?

Memories
may be beautiful, yet
too heavy, to recall in sequence.
We simply forget to select.

So it will be by laughter
that we recall
(when we recall)
we were the road.

So the laughter will be,
which we'll recall
(when we recall)
we were the road.

The Daily Winding Road (Sheryl Crow)

Language: Russian

Nothing to say. How's everybody doing? Are you ready to rock? Anybody? Let's bump up the ends of this amusement!

-Jessi

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I hitched this ride with the repairman of on-sale automatons,
he says this road never went downward more than twice.
He was high on intellectualism;
I am not there (but the gallop of the views of the glorious pamphlet inside
prevented us). It goes, lay back, it delights in exhibition.
It gets each high, it gets each low,
these will be those days when nothing goes.

The daily winding road,
in which I get somewhat closer,
The daily bleached sign.
I get a little closer to the penalty of feeling.

He has a daughter who causes Easter;
she was brought on Tuesday night
I was really interested in why I feel so entirely one,
why I will be a stranger in my own life's gallop.
Inside, I prevent us
from lying back, delight in each exhibition.
It gets high, each gets me low,
these will be days when nothing goes

The daily winding road,
in which I get somewhat closer,
The daily bleached sign.
I get a little closer to the penalty of feeling.

I floated in seas of anarchy,
my veins on the coffee and nicotine.
I am interested if all things, which I saw were always real,
were it, then had they always actually occurred?