Photos of John Cale by Francois Bernadi
The sky’s full of dirty, aching air, that’s burning a greasy yellow and zooming
Slowly in on everyone, [untie] these fighting sunsets that will not be fulfilled.
The noise on her eyes is still there, even when the retina yields in the strain of
The dull, sacreligious commandment of an eye for an eye or a tooth for a truth.
Even the ocean is ghettoized now, another dirty alleyway that leads nobody home.
When you’re so young and full of expectations, you’re looking for that perfect wave
And when you’d like to ride them all/on. so I ask you from the bottom of my heart,
Is that any way to treat your mother? red, red, red river, bloody ocean of
Sorrowful memories carry me to the deep blue sea. I hear you. call me.