ALL ABOUT EVE [DVD]

You have never heard it said                 
that the beauty of things loves to       
be hidden                                            
and what I have inside is strong          
far from mediocre                         
and I risked losing everything so as not to..... succumb to it

You have never heard it said                 
that the beauty of things loves to       
surprise you                                    
and what I have inside is strong          
far from mediocre                          
and I blindfolded my eyes long ago so as not to…….see it                 

(A) and I would have liked to have been among your most beautiful words
getting a shiver from the look in your eyes          
and I would have liked to have been in your distracted replies           

We spent a long time weaving in and out of those exquisitely contorted conversations    
without coming to any conclusion               
and what I have inside is strong          
and far from mediocr
I followed that deafening sound so as not to........hear it       
( A ) X 1

Look into my eyes 
Remove all lies and deceit
That aura of purity betrays diabolical anomalies 
And you know what I mean
And what I need

And yet you’ll have the cheek
To call facts mere chance events
Greed and duplicity conspire with the utmost cruelty
And you know what I mean
And you know that lying doesn’t right a wrong

You’ll cry and stage the umpteenth drama
With tears running down your burning cheeks
Eve 
And you’ll swear to God and on your mother that it’s not your fault
As the tears come running down

Look into my eyes
Remove all lies and deceit
Eve
That aura of purity reveals diabolic anomalies 
And you run from the awful monster
You’ve created
Sleep that brings no rest

You’ll cry and stage the umpteenth drama
With tears running down your burning cheeks
Eve 
And you’ll swear to God and on your mother that it’s not your fault
As the tears soak your silk shirt

Believe me it was an evil spell
The work of witchcraft
I was not in possession of my faculties

And you’ll cry and stage the umpteenth drama
With tears running down your burning cheeks
Eve 
And you’ll swear to God and on your mother that it’s not your fault
As the tears come running down

Dear Mr Waver it’s not easy 
To take responsibility for your choices   
Even to use your own words 
Wear a disguise and live bathing in reflected glory 
Deep in the murky waters 
Of  despicable lies and deceit 
Inferiority complexes and  
Cumbersome delusions of grandeur. 

Mr Waver it’s nothing to be ashamed of  
Never knowing how to hit the target
Having hopelessly missed the mark for the umpteenth time,

And it doesn’t really matter if 
Your wife does nothing but cry 
Obsessed by the suspicion of your many infidelities 
She swallows her pain and confusion with excessive doses of tranquillizers.

Feeling downhearted has become a habit, Mr Waver  
Not living up to your own ambitions  
Having to elbow your way to stand out from the crowd.
Ignorance is a considerable complex to have, 
An abyss that can be covered up in silence 
dodging the danger of facing a mild form of direct confrontation. 

Mr Waver it’s no disgrace  
to have no talent, 
to be forever trying not to miss the boat

And it doesn’t really matter if 
Your wife does nothing but cry 
Obsessed by the suspicion of your numerous infidelities 
And quite frankly she’s not entirely wrong  
And it’s no coincidence that 
Friends, lovers, and dreams all disappear 
The dog on the balcony has been waiting for months 
For the privilege of being taken for a walk and yet 
every evening he’s faithfully and ecstatically happy you’re home 
And it doesn’t really matter if 
Your wife does nothing but cry 
Obsessed by the suspicion of your numerous infidelities 
And quite frankly she’s not entirely wrong  
And it’s no coincidence that 
Friends, lovers, and dreams all disappear 
The dog on the balcony has been waiting for months 
For the privilege of being petted 
And meanwhile  your daughter asks you  
Why life is so miserable.

Mary Chain was patiently waiting her turn to receive holy communion.
That Sunday Jesus Christ on the cross looked even more sorrowful than usual.
The old priest had been absolving his flock 
Of the usual sins for more than twenty years.
Jesus Christ on the cross looked somewhat disheartened 
By those small town vices
Above all the uncontrollable desire to resort
to buttered, baked and ready-to-eat gossip
What delicious morsels and petty titbits to tickle the appetites of the vulgar
With their big, asbestos-lined mouths, stinking like stagnant pools.

Jesus Christ on the cross
Seemed more bothered by those abominations than by the nails  

Mary Chain you know what it feels like
To have a lump in your throat.
Choking back tears of rage and bitterness
Because of wrongs you never committed.
And you’re still serving an unfair sentence 
In the gloomy circle of malicious gossip.
And you wonder whether your name 
was more an omen than a spiteful trick.

Mary Chain didn’t know how to react
When the priest refused to give her holy communion
And in her pain she smothered an unspoken amen 
along with her humiliation.
According to an ancient proverb 
in the long run all lies become truths

Jesus Christ smiled indulgently almost in disbelief.  
 
Mary Chain you know what it feels like
To have a lump in your throat.
Choking back tears of rage and bitterness
Because of wrongs you never committed.
And you’re still serving an unfair sentence 
In the gloomy circle of malicious gossip.
And you wonder whether your name 
was more an omen than a spiteful trick.

One look from him and i fell under his spell,
His manicured fingers moved like a magician's.
His lips in proportion to the pearly-white,
Dazzling perfection of his irresistible smile.

With great expertise, never wasting a word,
I gave in to his charm and persuasion as he
Sweet talked me.

We started to meet and date fast and furiously,
In all the unusual places we could think of.
My artful young man had endless resources,
Pulling the strings that seduced me.

No hesitation when he asked me sincerely:
"come on let's get married". He was a master of self-assured ease.

Wedding day memories come back  to remind me,
A veil of white lace trailing softly behind me,
Something borrowed 'n' blue, something old 'n' new, 
As i waited devoutly for the groom to appear. 

Crammed in their pews the guests growing restless
Restraining their pent-up hysteria.
The minutes ticked by with relentless precision,
So where on earth was my husband to be ?

No hesitation when he asked me sincerely:
"come on let's get married". He was a master of self-assured ease.

Wedding day memories come back to remind me,
A veil of white lace trailing softly behind me,
No nervous bridegroom in manly composure,
Only the priest in conspicuous embarassment.

Wedding day memories come back  to remind me,
A veil of white lace trailing softly behind me,
No nervous bridegroom in manly composure,
Only the priest in conspicuous embarassment.

Wedding day memories come back  to remind me,
A veil of white lace flowing softly behind me,
No wedding march to walk down the
Aisle with, just the dull dirge of 
My inconsolable grieving.

The slope of abandonment is steep and treacherous.
The good Lord above, devastated and compassionate,
is unresponsive to human richness and misery.
Oblivion shall reign supreme as a precious remedy for the 
helplessness and cruelty of a shameful farewell
unexpectedly inflicted by one who pledged loyalty.
But a warm wind will herald the return of better times.

The good Lord above, devastated and compassionate,
is unresponsive to human richness and misery.
Oblivion shall reign supreme as a vile expedient for the 
helplessness and cruelty of a shameful farewell
unexpectedly inflicted by one who pledged loyalty.
But a warm wind will herald the return of better times.
But a warm wind will herald the return of better times.

But a warm wind will shape the severity of harsh winters.

Much has already been said
And daring words won’t feed illusions:
Winter is knocking at the door.
A guest just returned from a long journey
Hungry glances begging for a little taste
Of other people’s lives.

Before dawn
we might be caught
Carried away in the arms of Morpheus 
To where clear waters devour our footsteps on the shores of our dreams

They surround us, move closer with a watchful pace
like beasts lying in wait
Run away, Romeo from the tyranny of time
It is not the nightingale’s but the lark’s song
Voracious looks pounce shamelessly
on that noble repast

Before dawn we might be caught
Carried away in the arms of Morpheus 
To where clear waters devour our footsteps 
Before dawn we might be caught
Carried away in the arms of Morpheus 
To where clear waters devour our footsteps 
on the shores of our dreams

Into the third month of her hysterical pregnancy
A soft maternal glow could already be seen on her face
She would say: Maddalena would make an original name
And Sofia too and if it’s a boy, Vincenzo Maria.

In the sixth month of hysterical pregnancy
Everybody thought it best not to trouble the truth
Assailed by remorse for having pressured her 
Into having a baby while still fertile

As she awaited the joyful event that would never take place
She bought maternity clothes and an old-fashioned wooden cradle 
Her eyes spoke of the immeasurable happiness of sweet expectation

In the ninth month of hysterical pregnancy
Everybody was still keeping up the illusion out of cowardice
It was just a matter of time before that regrettable misunderstanding
For which only she was to blame would be clear to her.
As she awaited the joyful event that would never take place
She could feel it move with superb grace
Like a performing trapeze artist
Her eyes spoke of the immeasurable happiness of sweet expectation

As she awaited the joyful event
She already had everything planned
The priest, the Christening, the hospital
From the old-fashioned wooden cradle 
To a selection of musical boxes.

Slowly, magically,
Sweet expectation,
Sweet expectation

My sweet Love don’t say a word       
I am all too distressed by your anxiety     
Since I discovered I am your second-best     
I have been feeling ashamed  about the thoughts I had       
About what I wanted to do and didn’t      
About how I wanted to kill you                
 
I could smell it                                           
As you sank  into her lips                                   
You prayed it wouldn’t stop             
As you lost yourself in her lips         
You hoped it would not be short-lived       
 
My sweet savage love that was what you were looking for       
In the rubbish and waste of human kind       
Sometimes the conflict between sacred and evil wears me out       
That hammering pulsation of unhealthy pleasure     
For what I wanted to do and didn’t      
For what I wanted to inflict on you            
 
I could smell it                                           
As you sank  into her lips                                   
You prayed it wouldn’t stop             
As you lost yourself in her lips         
You hoped it would not be short-lived       
not short-lived                  
not short-lived                  
not short-lived                  
 
And all this just to say that                 
I paid my dues to the full....

The thought suddenly strikes me
Wiping out all modesty and defence.
I had suffocated that stupid inclination 
for taking flights of fancy and
spending time heartrendingly and heroically waiting
And I’ll survive this lack of oxygen
Despite treacherous streams I shall reach
the bottom of the abyss amid the ancient splendours
Of a world submerged for thousands of years.
I stupidly feared the immense, merciless beauty,
The depth in your eyes.

This thought makes my awakening sweet
Shaking me out of my stupor, the usual sluggishness.
Lost fragrances come to life again amid enchanted mountains
Great expectations swept away by the fury of stormy oceans.
Surrounded by a miraculous atmosphere
Meanwhile Atlantis
Smiles and looks at us amicably.
In the depths of the abyss, ancient splendours 
Of a world submerged for thousands of years
I stupidly feared the immense, merciless beauty,
The depth in your eyes.

Between one page and another of a randomly chosen book 
I was slowly killing time it was September already a few far-off voices and
absent-minded Autumn on the other side of the windows  
I almost hoped you wouldn’t come 
I almost believed that I wouldn’t miss you and yet I was waiting for you

Taking my mind off things seemed rather easy
I thought I could put up with your indifference 
looking for useless excuses and remedies  
You were the sore point, it was you sugary sweet Autumn it was you

I made a cold appraisal of my limits 
reckless gestures and frequent sacrifices 
it was late and my eyes were burning I was staring at the ceiling
my unmade bed  
I almost hoped you wouldn’t come 
I almost believed that I wouldn’t miss you and yet I was waiting for you 

Taking my mind off things seemed rather easy
I thought I could put up with your indifference 
looking for useless excuses and remedies  
I thought I could smother my impatience 
You were the sore point, it was you sugary sweet Autumn  
You were the sore point, it was you sugary sweet Autumn  

Sugary sweet Autumn… (x 4)

Autumn
Sugary sweet Autumn…

I’m looking at a photo of my mother
She was happy she must have been about three  
She was clutching  a doll close to her chest         
A most coveted gift.
It was her birthday party
In faded black and white .
 
I look at my mother in those days and I see 
The same smile on her face as mine.
And to think of all the times I felt she was distant 
And to think of all the times… 
I would have liked to talk to her about me at least ask her to explain 
Those long hostile moments of silence and indifference 
Invariably    
I would appear inflexible, beyond reach and proud
Deeply resolute fearing foolish rivalry  
 
I’m looking at a photo of my mother
She was happy she must have been about twenty 
Hair tied up in a silk scarf 
A vacant look upon her face.
A clear view of a radiant Catania 
In the sixties 
I scrutinize her closely and thoroughly and  find
The same look on her face as mine.
 
And to think of all the times I felt she was distant 
And to think of all the times… 
I would have liked to talk to her about me at least ask her to explain 
Those long hostile moments of silence and arbitrary indolence 
Invariably    
I would appear inflexible, beyond reach and proud
Deeply resolute fearing an innate rivalry. 
 
I would have liked to talk to her about me at least ask her to explain... 
I would have liked to talk to her about me at least ask her to explain...