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| damascus, 1998, cds, com, paroles, translation, libya, part, giovani, kuwait, | Mark: That ain't when he died though, is it? Ray: No. He lived another ten years, slippery old cunt. He died one afternoon in that fucking armchair. About right. trisha lafache I went around to see him, you know, when he was plotted up at me mother's. Mark: Hatcham Road? Ray: Yeah, Hatcham Road. He was upstairs in that front bedroom. Laid out. Mark: trisha lafache Free. Ray: Yeah. Yeah. I've gone up there, gone in. I'm sitting on trisha lafache the bed looking at him. He's laying there like... Mullered. And it was like he'd shrunk, you know? He was a big man. Mark: He was a lump. Ray: Yeah. You should know. You got enough clumps off the cunt. (sighs) And I just touched him, you know? He was fucking freezing cold. It frightened the life out of me. I was looking at him, you know? For the first time in my life, I talked to him. |
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| One-nil, three-nil, two-nil, a 1998 geezer called 1998 fucking Nil. Yeah. I said, "Well, what's it mean?" She 1998 said, "It means..." Mark: It means nothing to eat. Ray: Yeah, nothing down the... [points into his mouth] Mark: Nothing down the... Yeah. Ray: Yeah, all right. I remembered that day, because I could've put that on his fucking tombstone, you know? Because I don't remember one kiss, you know, one cuddle. Nothing. I mean, plenty went down, not a lot came out, you know, nothing that was any fucking good. And I'd look at this man that I call Dad, you know? My father, I knew him as Dad. He was my fucking dad but he weren't like other kids' dads, you know? It was as if the word itself were enough, and it ain't. |
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