27 pt2

I’m currently coming up with ideas for developing the public space of the place where we live now. I wrote a list, tomorrow will be my first public performance in my life. That is, I mean, the first event that is being organized through me. Accordingly, I am a kind of “idea organizer”. I counted 26 ideas, and realized that this reminds me of something. I added as an idea to hold evenings in memory of musicians and other figures with listening to music, watching thematic videos, concerts, reading lectures, and thoughts on the performers. So there were 27 ideas. I remembered one song by one band.

I will add a translation so that the meaning of the text is clear:

Telegram accounts,
On the walls constantly
With a red balloon
Every dog ​​knows you –
You weigh every gram.
Unfortunately, they no longer inspire
Walks in silence through a familiar neighborhood,
A call to the emergency room –
Adios! And hello to the paramedics…

Scars and bruises from the drip,
Catheters, doctors’ advice
He meant everyone
He did not have to live.
As he wanted –
Sat on a chair,
And flew away…

Parties until the morning
Without shame and without hope –
And therefore without strength…
You are not held by hugs –
You weigh every step.
Your voice has already fallen silent in the gunfire
In monitors and linear arrays
Instead, the eternal
Drugs, sex and roll…

Who is here now, Janis or Jim?
Amy or Kurt? Nobody cares…
Fuck your club 27…
Fuck your club 27…