Greens

JOHN BAUER

Grotallia

Wyrd December: Big Baby, Comus, Austin Osman Spare

Faust was right have no regret Gimme your soul I'll give you life And all the things you want to get

I'm getting out
I'm moving on
And from now on
address unknown
I shouldi be difficult to find
So follow me
just follow me.

I'll sell you dreams and new desires
I'm trading hopes
I'm opened
I am the night
I am your fate
So follow me
just follow me.

Faust was right
have no regret
Gimme your soul
I'll give you life
And all the things you want to get
So follow me
just follow me.
I'll give you wings
I'll sell you fame
Merry-go-round
maybe to hell
I am the key to your problem
So follow me
just follow me.
Unbelievable maybe
You'll have a new identity
For a second of vanity
I want to change your destiny . . .
Unbelievable maybe
. . .
Follow me
follow me
I'll give you anything you want
Your wish is my command
If you agree to follow me.

The world could be like the absolute opposite. Yet the dreams do not dream.

What if The Trafford Centre was seen for what it is, a colossal tick, sucking on the banks of the Manchester Ship Canal and the generations of meat formed around it, a vampiric vortex, debriding the lazy sediment of lumpen proletarian dreams, anaethetising revolutionary energy into a slow Sunday promenade around the deck of the titanic or king solomons mines. Shop fronts' gleam: 'Adornos'', 'Brechts', 'Paradise'... they shuffle on, checking themselves against the prosperous bourgeois in mirrored avenues. Public capitalism - celebrity, in Los Angeles, Hollywood - Trafford, capital transfigured into slip-on shoes, industrialised culture, cheap plastic goods piled high in barbaric pyres. Wagner plays.