Παρασκευή, 18 Μαΐου 2007

18 - 05 - 1980...Ian Curtis


In fear every day, every evening,
He calls her aloud from above,
Carefully watched for a reason,
Painstaking devotion and love,
Surrendered to self preservation,
From others who care for themselves.
A blindness that touches perfection,
But hurts just like anything else.

Isolation, isolation, isolation

Mother I tried please believe me,
I’m doing the best that I can.
I’m ashamed of the things I’ve been put through,
I’m ashamed of the person I am.

Isolation, isolation, isolation

But if you could just see the beauty,
These things I could never describe,
These pleasures a wayward distraction,
This is my one lucky prize

Isolation, isolation, isolation, isolation, isolation


Isolation (1980)
Κάπου εκεί τελείωσαν όλα,
27 χρόνια πριν,
μ' ένα σκοινί απ' την απλώστρα,
σε μια κουζίνα,
σε μια απομόνωση,
κρεμασμένος,
ο Ian Curtis,
μόλις 24 χρονών,
αυτόχειρας,
τέλος