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lirik lagu dylan thomas - september 1, 1939

i sit in one of the dives
on fifty~second street
uncertain and afraid
as the clever hopes expire
of a low dishonest decade:
waves of anger and fear
circulate over the bright
and darkened lands of the earth
obsessing our private lives;
the unmentionable odour of death
offends the september night

accurate scholarship can
unearth the whole offence
from luther until now
that has driven a culture mad
find what occurred at linz
what huge imago made
a psychopathic god:
i and the public know
what all schoolchildren learn
those to whom evil is done
do evil in return

exiled thucydides knew
all that a speech can say
about democracy
and what dictators do
the elderly rubbish they talk
to an apathetic grave;
~n~lysed all in his book
the enlightenment driven away
the habit~forming pain
mismanagement and grief:
we must suffer them all again
into this neutral air
where blind skyscr~pers use
their full height to proclaim
the strength of collective man
each language pours its vain
competitive excuse:
but who can live for long
in an euphoric dream;
out of the mirror they stare
imperialism’s face
and the international wrong

faces along the bar
cling to their average day:
the lights must never go out
the music must always play
all the conventions conspire
to make this fort assume
the furniture of home;
lest we should see where we are
lost in a haunted wood
children afraid of the night
who have never been happy or good

the windiest militant trash
important persons shout
is not so crude as our wish:
what mad nijinsky wrote
about diaghilev
is true of the normal heart;
for the error bred in the bone
of each woman and each man
craves what it cannot have
not universal love
but to be loved alone
from the conservative dark
into the ethical life
the dense commuters come
repeating their morning vow;
“i will be true to the wife
i’ll concentrate more on my work,”
and helpless governors wake
to resume their compulsory game:
who can release them now
who can reach the deaf
who can speak for the dumb?

all i have is a voice
to undo the folded lie
the romantic lie in the brain
of the sensual man~in~the~street
and the lie of authority
whose buildings grope the sky:
there is no such thing as the state
and no one exists alone;
hunger allows no choice
to the citizen or the police;
we must love one another or die

defenceless under the night
our world in stupor lies;
yet, dotted everywhere
ironic points of light
flash out wherever the just
exchange their messages:
may i, composed like them
of eros and of dust
beleaguered by the same
negation and despair
show an affirming flame

- lirik lagu dylan thomas

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