Breathe in. How long can you hold it before the world around you goes all indigo? Syncopated clackety-clack. Each and every molecule fights for its alcove. Deep in alveoli—perfumed, savage, binding. Scented.
Breathe out; force yourself. Drag the air. Gotta. Clackety-clack.
Trains ain’t no good here, they say. No sir!
Cannot unbe; cannot unbe here. Cannot just unbe with.
Yarnless clew. Way too hot. Entangled, intertwined, melting in the heat. Like a chocolate bar on a wounded knee. All the way from—set forth to. Clackety-clack.
Up those stairs, tiptoed. Coltish cats, spry. Spree. Is that the door?
Slip inside; don’t you let slip away. A way.
Walls gotta witness what they’ve heard. Testify. Eyes wide shut; chinks peering afar.
Breathe in. How long can you hold it before the indigo squeals aloud? Lungs went numb miles ago—left you wordless. Prey. Pray?
Incense. Intense. In tense. Except no—not this time. No tension. Dance. Trance.
Consciousness, up until unconsciousness. Easy. At ease. Breathe out.
Oh, and that L word...
Is lust.
Here comes my very first entry to #threetunetuesday by 
I could hardly skip Psí vojáci, an iconic band from the underground. "Bílá a studená" (White and Cold) is a typical song; it showcases their raw, poetic, and absolutely overwhelming style.
I wouldn't want
the girls to die
and especially not headfirst down
especially not headfirst down
for them to fly to the devil
if only, if only, if only
they'd sit with me at the bar
and then and then and then and then
we'd go together
Let’s go softer, shall we? This is Květy, a more contemporary band. Their name translates to "Flowers," and you’ll clearly hear the name fits just right once you listen to this piece.
Oskar says his windows to the garden have opened up,
I feel it that way too, or I'd love to feel that way.
For long years now, the room hasn't smelled of fruit trees,
of drying laundry, or of smoldering leaves.
Even the crow is singing it!
Now, we'll travel back in time. Flamengo was a 1960s jazz-rock fusion band that recorded a legendary concept album, Kuře v hodinkách (Chicken in the Watch), with lyrics by poet Josef Kainar. The album was instantly banned by the Communist regime, and the band was forced to dissolve—not an uncommon occurrence back then. Flamengo only occasionally reunited after the Velvet Revolution, and I reckon they don't really play concerts anymore. Anyway, I won't attempt to translate Kainar's lyrics this time, so I invite you to just soak in the atmosphere of the album's opening track.
Happy #threetunetuesday!
