by Nemorospo



released January 7, 2014



all rights reserved


Nemorospo Paris, France

Born in 1969 Making music since the age of 13 Guitarist in a rather good band called REZO ÜBERGANG in the late 80'S Many influences from this period I made a long pause in music production (over 20 years!) To start finally alone for the moment, for three years now. ... more

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You don’t really want to know.

And you would not believe.

You don’t really want to look

Through the mirror of my broken soul.

Your reflection in pieces slowly fades.

Nobody can ever trace your past misdeeds.

You can sleep on your ears,

Nobody will bother you.

You can kiss your children,

No one will tell them

Who you really are.
Track Name: Hangover
He opened an eye sore and closed
almost as soon as the sun hit his face hard.
At the second attempt, he could see he was still wearing his shoes,
the duvet was corked corkscrew around his waist,
the bed looked like a nest of cockroaches,
his mouth and everything that followed were like in an oven .

He put one foot on the ground and hit a glass that is spreading on the floor in a little nauseous puddle.
He swore under his breath,
too much pressure from the blood pulsing in his temples made him feel
a throbbing pain.

The dog, exactly.
He wondered if it was him, this dark and disturbing presence,
indefinable and yet seeming to float in the meanders of his conscience, which had haunted his drunken sleep just before sinking into the depths, the regions most disreputable of his soul.
The thought of this dark and scary thing made him shiver. He listened. Behind the ringing of tinnitus that alcohol had left him,
he no longer perceived as silence.

His heart was beating too fast. He wondered if it was not going to explode, then immediately and without warning
or out of his throat in a stream of bile and finally landed at his feet
in the puddle of wine that was already beginning to dry in the sun.
He took a few deep breaths, trying to regain some calm,
trying to stem the panic that terrible hangover
or was it the nightmare of the night before –
was rising in him and nothing seemed to be able to stop this.

He finally got up grinning and went to the kitchen,
hugging the walls, nothing more than the shadow of a shadow.
He drank two large glasses of ice water and a handful of aspirine.
There were other more powerful drugs, and probably more effective, indeed his therapist had given him the choice.
But for now, he kept them at the bottom of his pharmacy,
a little away from him, saying that the worst was probably coming.

He went out on the balcony he loved to find some air
as his lungs made him feel like two balloons filled with sawdust.
This should be the end of the morning and the heat was already there, impressive and thick, even giving great shots with an ax,
it would not able to draw an ounce of freshness
as well try to fly with a ton of lead in the skull.

He walked, pitching to Mia’s bedroom window,
stopping occasionally to cling to the guardrail as his head was spinning, even four meters above the ground, he had this uncomfortable feeling
to turn around in circles on the top of a lighthouse.
At least, the outside light was on par.