CHROME PAGE - DEAD SEASON


	DEAD SEASON февраль 2005

Set list:

Black Death
Christ
Belgrade child
Dread!
Yankee, go home!
Justice
Winter


	Dedications: Victims of horrible bloodshed in Serbia and Iraq – «Belgrade child», «Dread!»: That was the least I could do for you… Team Czech Republic fans in Nagano 1998 – «Yankee, go home!»: Just can’t forget that hockey quarterfinal victory and that banner still. Thanks: Olja Chrome for leading my poetry out of my own dead season. Nobel House for the rush publishing and promotion of my “Justice” single. Metallica and Pink Floyd for the sparks of inspiration. And everyone else, who can declare that he’s my die-hard fan… at least, fibbing. Like see you on tour or something!

"Black Death" Darkest 1347, December – Season that gave so much to remember: Europe receives with its arms open wide Merchants from Asia, who led a bride… Dead winter, dead! A severe damnation Rages through land to annihilate nation! Dressed in white snow as if going to wed: Meet fatal bride… Oh, it’s dead winter, dead! Plague like a shot spreads through air and water, Turning whole villages into a slaughter. Ulcer’s to grow from a black mourning stain, Fevering cruelly, piercing with pain. Neck rots alive, thus cannot even swallow – Pestilence beckons another to follow. No one can find any treatment way art – Touched by decease and you are to depart. Dead winter, dead! A severe damnation Rages through land to annihilate nation! Dressed in white snow as if going to wed: Meet fatal bride… Oh, it’s dead winter, dead! Suffering moan is deafening ears, Corpse on hard snow all in sores and red tears… Bride comes in house then everyone dies, Thus doors are locked, silence – answer to cries. Friends putrefy on your eyes, disappear, Making you skulk in a corner in fear – Villages sharply becoming extinct, Europe with pestilence deadly succinct! Dead winter, dead! A severe damnation Rages through land to annihilate nation! Dressed in white snow as if going to wed: Meet fatal bride… Oh, it’s dead winter, dead! Agony, fear are brought by white season – Exterminated one third with no reason: Every third died when the Black Death was done! Happy New Year! Twenty million gone… Dead season of Humanity…	"Christ" Christ is dead upon a cross – Whether it is gain loss? If that’s how salvation shows, Or just dried meat for black crows? Progenies his speeches called, Raising danger of revolt, Seeding rumors and disorder – Undermining proper order. On the other hand, the say, He was showing a new way, One, that to relive the heart… Or the one that brakes apart? Thus impostor crucified? He deceived the herdsmen, lied: Named himself a son of god, While was born of people’s mud. Or a saint one is dead, Who tried lead as god has led And then ended life in teens To redeem the human sins? Is it a divine true will, That the blood of Christ should spill? Or just man, who’s went too far, Lost when it was make or mar? Dead season in Judaea…
"Belgrade child" Mama, there’s a plane up in the sky. Mama, what’s this siren? Wonder why… Mama, screaming noise my ears rends! Mama, please close them with your warm hands. Mama, there’s another one to show… Mama, they are flying in a row! Mama, I cannot this understand: Mama, why they come to our land? Mama, whether they will drop the bombs? Mama, should we run to catacombs? Mama, what we’ve done for their dive? Mama, I just want to stay alive… Mama, if there’s someone to resist? Mama, who will try to clench his fist? Mama, sight in smoke began to fade… Mama, they are burning my Belgrade! Mama, men were falling, when we run… Mama, whether victims part of plan? Mama, something has just scratched my head! Mama, please don’t cry if I am… Dead season in Serbia…	"Dread!" Die, butterfly under strong soldiers’ boots, Dread as we coming for oil! Spreading the fright we are marching with hoots – Feet trample wings into soil. Dinting in sand army steps far inside, Crushing the natives’ resistance. Covered the greed of politics, which hide Search for cheap fuel in distance. Army is led by the oil seduction, Costs are the things we don’t care. Mass devastation and total destruction – Fuel delivery fare. Buried alive in the sands of Iraq – Victim of ransack for spoil, Income steel pipes are beginning to suck, Though there is blood in this oil… Dead season in Iraq…
"Yankee, go home!" Advancing its system in every weak state, America seeds own rules. It sees a new puppet to manipulate: Ukraine with elections for fools! The States grafting students to crowd the streets And naming who now they should dote. Youth stands for the money and used by some nits, Who have bought its free will to vote. Is this your democracy – thing you proclaim – To chose a new president twice? Or it’s foreign policy cruelest game, When you pick a nation for dice? I’m full up of your interference, conceit And feeling you have final voice! There is an idea: you just stay aside Cause it’s only citizens’ choice. There is constitution or system of laws, That noted in their own tome, So thrust not your nose into things, which not yours! Hey, Yankees, you must go home! Dead season in Ukraine…	"Justice" Walls of justice fast decay, Nibbled by corruption – Holes are seen in every way, Leading to destruction. Hands with grafts are filling gaps, Trying green to punch in, Buying pardons, buying raps – Fairness is crunching. Franklin gives a wink from cash, Forcing a decision – Jury never gonna crash, Bribed for needed vision. Judge’s hammer crushes truth And the Legislation; Lost in system every sleuth, Lured by temptation. Lady Justice has been raped In the law-court mazes: Blinded eyes and mouth taped, Robbed of rights for phrases. Dead Season of Justice…

"Winter"

(Part 1: Young winter)

Winter’s back! Winter’s back at last!
Falling flakes, snowballs fly fast,
Frisking kids are making happy throng –
What a day, awaited so long!

[children laughing]

Laugh is heard right from every side,
Down hill in a sleigh kids ride –
Left behind dull November rust,
Winter’s back! Winter’s back at last!

(Part 2: Broken childhood)

Though was grown up in streets,
I was kind son:
One who nicely plays with kids,
Always having fun.

But my Father gone one day,
Leaving only debts –
Poverty, no funds to pay,
That’s how life upsets.

[aggressive screaming]

Fuck your system, politicians,
Selfish stupid nerds!
Building paying coalitions,
Lying till last words!

Where have you been when I
First time broke the law?
No one ever asked me why?
No body – what for?

Government was caring not
Of the poor ones.
Moved to district, known as hot –
Got to get the guns.

Getting on with street gang’s crew,
I was led astray,
But was nothing I could do,
No other way…

(Part 3: Error)

Mother’s getting badly weak,
Need more drugs or she gets sick –
For the money now I seek…
Deal’s coming on!

Someone’s struggling for a dollar,
Others fighting for huge stock –
Forced by greed or due to squalor,
Daily men guns cock and cock.

No luck to run on tick,
But when came big buts to lick,
Got a chance some cash to pick…
Deal’s coming on!

System’s wrong – it hearts as splinter:
Everything is bought and sold.
This is everlasting winter:
Daily world is dark and cold.

Task’s not hard for the first one:
Rob bank quickly and then run,
In a sec with plunder gone –
Deal’s coming on!

Down fatal system error
Damp society fast takes:
Rapes and murder, acts of terror
Are political mistakes!

[pistols shooting]

Somebody might find it fun:
Threatening cashier with gun –
Seems, like clearly we’ve done…
Or there’s something’s wrong?

(Part 4: Unforeseen)

One sold his friends for money and came off neat and clear –
An ambush, skirmish, running and cops are so near…
Whatever you are doing, consider a betrayal:
You close your eyes on something and everything will fail.

[hard breathing]

Exhausted, persecuted and haunted to the corner –
And thus the deal ended without any honour…
Whatever you are doing, consider a betrayal:
For single time you’ve missed it – you going to the jail.

(Part 5: Sorry, mama…)

[followed by cell’s echo]

I’m so sorry, mama!
My life is just disorder,
I used to cross the border,
But don’t think that I groan…

This fucking shit is drama!
For you it’s so wrongly:
For nothing you turned lonely,
As I left you alone.

Will you forgive me, mama?
As I have let you down,
My sorrow I can’t drown,
I should have not joined pack…

But I can’t stand this drama!
I must get out quickly,
Or am I not too slickly?
I promise, I’ll be back!

(Part 6: Dead winter)

[crunching snow]

Heavy boots to force through snow,
Boilersuit and hood;
Twisting, stumbling, falling low,
Running fast to wood.

[yelling and shooting]

Yelling’s heard not far behind,
Following the trace.
Snowstorm is making blind,
Wind blows straight in face…

But a shot in my back,
Forces blood on my dress,
As it’s bullet to hack,
Trying me to suppress…

Heavy boots to stick in snow,
Feet to lose the step…
Couldn’t make it, couldn’t, no!
Drops of streaming sap…

Go down onto knees –
Grimace of cold pain…
Mama, whether you will miss
Son who’s gone in vain?

[body falling]

There’s a shot in my back,
There is blood on my dress,
There is oxygen lack,
It’s a chest under press…

There’s the last winter sec,
There is requiem mass,
There is snow turning black,
It’s a heart beating less…

Poems, texts, conception, design and arrangements were created by Fjodor Chrome and are his own property.
The original copyrights on every poem and on the whole «Dead Season» project are internationally registered.
Unauthorized copying or other copyright infringements are strictly prohibited and illegal!

(c) By Fjodor Chrome in 2005.
Cr.