Текст песни Nine Eleven - Ninth Floor

Текст:

The big hand stopped on ELEVEN. Time is running out. I engulf my slices of bread. The last crumbs smash onto the ground The scent of toast fills her mouth, and perfumes the kiss she lays on my cheeks. A dead time before history repeats itself. Its doors locked on MARCH, THE TWENTY-FIFTH, NINETEEN ELEVEN. Outside the wind blows us away, like fucking straws. We run and we bustle. There is this worm eating its way inside the Apple, slithering to the beat of the second hand, Staring (and oblivious). We let ourselves be engulfed. Only to be spat out TWENTY minutes later at the corner of the NINTH Street. (School is over there) its doors locked at EIGHT THIRTY, and its teacher scolding us for being late... I don't like her, but Mom says "that's life, you'll probably spend long years doing lousy things, in places of death, down in the dumps" She then talks about the Triangle, its doors locked from NINE to FIVE, Repressing the need to smoke, forgetting the urge to live. (The little boy to his mother :) - "I'll blow you many kisses during recess, if you turn your eyes through the Triangle window" - "But the NINTH floor’s doors are locked from NINE to FIVE", She says in a whisper blowing her away from my arms. As the little hand lingers on FOUR, the laughs and screams of my chums will slowly fill the schoolyard. But I won't care.. I will look for her among the angels, and she'll be there! In the deafening silence of the Triangle, engulfed in that red light, spitting out those breadcrumbs which fall and smash onto the ground… The scent of toast is still coming out of her mouth… as it puckers up to a kiss… as if to say goodbye.

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