Après une âpre négociation avec les
rapaces avocats de feu le label Ten Times Louder, Antée a en fin obtenu la garde les droits du dernier EP de Meanstreet, groupe-phare – s’il en est – de la non-scène bruxelloise de la fin du millénaire passé. Non mixée et non masterisée, cette session avait été volée a Nico du Studio Six. Je ne peux que trop conseiller de lire en même temps ce que l’on a retrouvé des excellentes paroles de Kwis.
This meeting point is a mess, it’s going places hard to suggest.
It started out on the day I took my first deep breath and a yell
I couldn’t have known by the warmth with which I was welcomed into the world
(that these were times of questionnable balance)
weighed down by the plate (of a custom made) system
looking down in it’s pockets with tomorrow’s earnings set before people.
Weighed down by the shame (of a short term) planning leaving no real answers.
Functionnal, commercial, it’s logic all men get together and
build towards exchange and interraction but it seems forgotten that
we have a mind and a heart and a brain and it’s down to no consideration,
useless functions they’ll look the other way.
My next few steps turned to years, before I knew it I was facing the facts:
(no aesthetic lies in this frame) it’s function first and ammounts.
Optimize production while crumbs fall off from that table up high
but hate just leads to pain, I know that I don’t want to spend my life fighting,
(no cause’ll justify waste).
Make a better plan. I’m trying just to get it balanced out right;
(day to day will make it worthwhile.)
Close your eyes and I’ll tell you you’re just one in a million
Pray for change, keep your head straight, hope is scarce but it sure helps
Looking back on words when you had meant them
Crying on the knowing that you’re drowning
Smiles for shorter sentences and questions
Soon some hand will show you the direction
Close your eyes cause I’ve brought you tales just like chameleon
Caught you talking to four walls hands together. I’m here now
Planning lives of pure imagination
Sorry but you’re already old
Looking back and forth but never catch the motion
Running hard to get to the rainbow
Plans for better days in the hope that it falls into place
Fantasize over joys that you saw
Kings are crowned everyday, victory sure smells nice
I’m about to get out, I’m about to…
Left, right, centre it’s everywhere you look
Plan and compare, they seem to be more
Stand but don’t take a risk
Safe side. These words that float about are by no means real.
Words of surrendery we call, dragging down
anything that gets in the way; steep falls of pain.
Carry on like you don’t mind, senses blind.
Always there’s someone to show (you) the finishing line.
Downgraded references collide one more time,
antagonistic approach…we have the right!
Suck yourself out of the maths, export all
views that assess and compare. This is now.
Days are now numbered till joys to be fall into place and bring some relief.
Count, hope, crossing out days in your head.
These tracks lead to contemplation, motion’s where we’re moving to.
Justified, it is justified. I won’t grieve on the remaining air in this container.
Justified such as long that we try. Interruption ‘ll lead to unanounced mourning.