Original subtitles

Brother to brother brother to brother

brother to brother brother to brother

brother to brother brother to brother

brother to brother brother to brother

brother to brother brother to brother

brother to brother brother to brother

brother to brother brother to brother

brother to brother brother to brother

brother to brother brother to brother

Silence is what I hear

after the clap of the hand and "tape me five".

after...

what is happening dude ?

How are you, girlfriend?

Blood!

When I talk with a girlfriend

I am more inclined to think to my last piece

or the feast of such or such at She She Club

only to anger and evil that I had felt this morning

when a jeweler refused me the entrance of his shop

because I am black and man

and that we are all perceived as thieves.

I'm going to swallow this pain and will express only anger

saying "I should have burst his fucking windows! "

Part of the anger will be exorcised

but the pain, as we do not give him the floor,

predominates and accumulates.

Silence is a way to smile and support

a way of not recognizing

how my life is lowered every day.

100% less on all black men today

everyday

100% less on all black men today

everyday

every day, 100% less on all black men today

100% on all men blacks today - every day

I strive to appear loud and silent

I learn to ingest hatred at a geometric pace

and silently count up to 10 ... [Yusef's murder]

ten thousand ... ten million.

But as I learned to choke my cries of anguish [black men]

I also learned to repress my exclamations of joy

[species in danger?]

what's left is rap.

Delicate languages

Silence is my shield

(he crushes)

silence is my coat

(he chokes)

silence is my sword

(he cuts in both ways)

silence is the most deadly weapon.

What a legacy found in silence?

how much lost lives ...

what future lies in our silence?

how many stories lost ...

so seductive, his grip.

(this silence) breaks it.

(our silence) loosens the tongue

(Reflects) let's end the silence, baby

(together? now?) together ! now !

Now that I am at peace with death

I took her hand, shook her

I'm sorry for his giggles

mocking me to the stones too big to pass alone

now that I lamented the deaths of men

loves that I never had, acts not done,

polite perversion pubescent way

now that I have paid shades of black, boy,

fingernail pigments, queer, gender troublemaker,

now that I'm crazy, weird, free, initiate me.

War paintings on my cheeks oin me coconut oil

and sperm, that I speak in tongues

twisted so tight that they entangle my mind.

Hold my head in my hands,

bless her, slice her

draw a cross on it

the mark of the rite

initiation to the fight.

You're good on "black cat"

your hotline for the best black numbers.

You want to connect to a bangie-boy?

Press 1.

For a versatile butch queen, press 2

or if you seek to engage yourself body and mind to a BGA, press 3.

Do not be shy,

make a choice and meet this special man ...

Good choice.

Now leave a message,

you have a minute after the beep.

BGA - "Black Gay Activist"

Thirties, grown, sensitive

profeminist, looking for the same for licking envelopes

distribution of flyers, streamer manufacturing

companion of demo

theorizing through dialogue, good moments

and hot sex and protected.

Why are we coming back alone at home?

Pillows and magazines in single beds

we push ourselves to the degree ultimate for the cause

if we can not reap the benefits?

I do not want to get married with the movement. And you ?

Put an end to this silence, baby.

We could do a serious revolution, together.

I was in the S2 bus in the direction of Silver Spring.

The bus, most of the way had been filled

with the quiet whisper other passengers.

Suddenly from the back the bus,

a voice rose and shouted

"You are my dog!"

"Nan han han! we are bitches! "

I turned around, I looked at the back of the bus:

there were two brothers who were bickering!

"No, you listen to me now"

"I do not wear lipstick, you so! "

"I'm not a bitch!"

"I fucked you, you are my dog! "

that went on without conclusion until we arrive

at the crossroads between the 16th and U street.

The bus is now filled with passengers

and we are approaching the stop,

I see ten new people climb on board.

At the moment when the first person boarded,

a shrill and hysterical voice scream from behind.

"I am a 45 year old black gay man"

"who loves, likes take cocks in her rectum! "

"I'm not your dog!"

"Your dog is at home with your children! "

We are entering now in the 5th dimension

of our sexual consciousness.

The ride is hard.

There is no lubricant for that.

We had heard about of this new club

so we decided to go to a few.

We arrived early, around 22h.

We thought that if it was zero

we could always arrive at Bella's before midnight.

We had to wait in the queue at least 15 minutes.

Meanwhile, the bouncer, "Miss Attitude Ann",

you imagine the type, faded blond hair.

the body by Nautilus the spirit by Mattel.

"Miss Bitch" is watching us.

Ten black men arrive

and they paranoid, is the place going to rock ...

we finally arrive at the door

and Machin says, with much condescension,

"You know he have to pay to get back. "

I tried to ignore his rudeness then she threw her arm:

"I need to see three pieces of ID. "

I thought this shit was over,

I just went back

and I watched Miss Ann right in the eyes.

"Three pieces of identification?"

She did not know what who had hit her!

We took our money and we left.

The next day I filed a complaint against this rotten box

at the mayor's office, to the commission on human rights,

at the NAACP (National Association for the advancement of people of color)

and the democratic club Alice B. Toklas

Do not look for tangles with a snap-diva!

This is a lesson basic of "snap"!

divarettes, listen this rap of great diva.

Snaps can be thrown

and the snaps can be suspended

to read, to punctuate

to cut. like a whip!

So, you have the ...

domestic snap.

You have the...

snap.

And you have the big diva snap.

Do not be mistaken.

Our big divas from snap to duel will now demonstrate

the subtleties of the snap to the beginner divarettes.

Precision, rhythm, placement, balance,

a sophisticated snap is more than just a sound.

Repeat!

precision, placement, balance,

you have to perfect everything for a big statement snap!

You must know that girls must be

ambidextrous

If you can not snape with both hands, you're done!

Do you know why we do that?

Because we can not always to have our arms free to do that ...

I had heard my call at the age of 6.

We had a word for boys like me...

Shabby!

Shabby!

Not because I had sex

with other boys,

everyone in the neighborhood did that.

Shabby!

But because

I did not mind donating

while other boys were exchanging.

"You can have my buttocks if you give me yours "

"Uh uh, wait a minute, if I start ... "

"You're the one who started the last time"

"But, I want to be the dad"

"It's all the time you daddy"

"But I'll be the daddy"

"I am the dad."

Not me.

I gave it ...

free.

Shabby!

At the age of 11

we moved to Georgia [USA].

I climbed to new knowledge.

Homo!

"Do not you know how to kiss?"

Homo!

... asked me my best friend, shocked.

I did not know what to do with a girl

when I lost to the game of the bottle.

Homo!

"I will show you"

he said, his brown eyes inviting.

We practiced kisses during weeks :

dry, wet, french [with tongue]

until his older brother we insult.

Homo!

"What is a homo?" I asked.

Shabby, fagot, freak!

I understood.

We stopped kissing each other.

My best friend became my worst enemy.

Whore of negro!

At the age of 12, they sent me

at Hepzibah College, on the outskirts of Augusta.

Whore of negro!

A graffitti on the wall greeted me.

Go home to the Negroes!

The white hicks hated me ...

Whore of negro!

... because I was one

only two blacks placed in 8A

the class for the best and more brilliant of Hepzibah.

Go home to the Negroes!

Black people hated me ...

Uncle Tom!

... because they thought that

my status in class made me carefree

Uncle Tom!

because they were silent

for superiority.

Uncle Tom!

I was shy.

Whore of negro!

Uncle Tom!

I was lost

Whore of negro!

Uncle Tom!

Go home to the Negroes!

I was scared, and I was alone.

Whore of negro!

Uncle Tom!

Shabby, fagot!

Go home to the Negroes! freak! shabby!

fucking negro! homo! fagot!

Uncle Tom! Go home to the Negroes!

Forced by identities

I never had wanted to claim

I ran...

quickly...

eagerly ...

to the bottom of myself ...

where it was still ...

quiet...

sure.

Deception.

A full moon night began by a rhetorical song ...

"Hey swinger, what are you doing here? "

Rocks of the city fell around his jerky steps

a spitting vola on his uncovered shoulder,

empty bottles exploded against the edges of garbage cans,

sharp debris sprang to his throat,

a baton knocked him out,

his money and his identity card removed,

his face hacked, disfigured,

left in a pool of blood.

He waited for the police, the ambulance,

the kindness of brothers

or Jesus, to take his messages.

A white man came to my rescue,

attractive, with green gray eyes,

a sweet Tennessee complexion.

He seduced me, took me out of my teenage silence.

He called me "friend".

I fell in love.

We never touched, never kissed,

but he left his mark.

What a blessing, his immaculate seduction ...

Feel the rhythm of life,

trust again to passion ...

what joy.

May it come of a White

with gray green eyes ...

What a curse.

In California, I was learning the touch and the taste of the snow.

Crossing whites,

I played teen dreams, delayed.

Let me touch, let me taste, let me lick

let me suck it, let me touch it, let me taste it

let me lick it, let me suck him

let me touch it, let me taste it

Maybe from time to time a brother gave me a look.

I never noticed.

I was immersed in vanilla.

I savored this unique flavor, deliberately not mine,

I avoided the question "why?"

pretended not to notice

the absence of black images in this new gay life.

In bookstores, stores posters, film festivals,

even my own fantasies.

I tried not to notice the few pictures of blacks

which were the most popular.

Something in me went wrong.

But I was trying not to notice.

I was determined to research

from my reflection, love, affirmation,

in blue, gray, green eyes.

While searching, I discovered something I did not expect.

Something that decades of assimilation determined

could not make me invisible:

in this great gay Mecca, I was an invisible man,

I had no shadow, no substance,

no place, no story, no reflection.

I was a stranger, unnoticed or otherwise, undesirable.

Here as in Hepzibah, I was a negro, always.

I left the Castro district, it was no longer my house, my mecca,

and I went looking for a better place.

I do not know why

but I feel so sad

I can not wait to try something that I have never had

never had kisses ...

oh, what I missed ...

my lover where can you be?

The night is cold and I am so alone

I would give my soul just for you to be mine

I have a moon above me but nobody to love me

my lover, where can you be?

Black is the color

hair of my true love

his sweet face, wonderful party

Mourning is not a garment,

it's not like a dress, a wig,

or high heels of my sister,

it's darker that the man I love

who, in my fantasies,

come find me

in a silver chariot six-cylinder.

I walk on the docks from the seaside

in the high heels of my sister,

dreaming of him,

his name still unknown to my tongue.

While I'm waiting my prince,

I ask all the other men, to pay for my kisses,

I buy makeup for my lips, stockings for my legs,

my high heels and my dresses are part of me.

When he comes, I will know to love his body.

Standing here, on the docks of the seaside,

I learned to please a man,

he will bring me flowers,

he will bring me silk and jewels, I know,

while I wait, that I am the only man who loves me.

They call me "star"

because I'm listening their dreams and desires,

but the mourning is darker,

it's a wig that does not rest gently on my head.

So, black is the color

hair of my true love

hair of my true love

of my true love

Abomination!

It's an abomination!

Man must not lie down with the Man,

because it's an abomination to his eyes.

They say "we are in the same political boat ",

"we should be brothers",

but before accepting his kinship political or otherwise,

what I want to know is: where is his loyalty?

what kind of model is a shabby anyway?

there is no place, there is no corner,

in the church of God, for perversion!

As a priority, I want to know when comes the last judgment.

What is it above all?

Black or gay?

Do you know the answer,

the absurdity of this question.

How can you stay sitting in silence?

How do you choose an eye rather than another?

that half of the brain rather than this one?

or to use words that this brother could understand,

which he considers the most: his left or right?

Tell him !

Silence is my shield

(he crushes)

God gave men a sacred purpose,

yes he did it,

the goal of engendering the future generations.

But the homosexual defile his seed!

We need strong black men

to strengthen the black family.

How a homosexual does he participate in that?

Is not a fag that part of the crisis?

A shabby man is a shabby man.

I do not want them around me or my children,

that's all !

Silence is my coat

(he chokes)

Do not think

that God does not see the evil in this world,

he knows !

he is watching !

he punishes !

Yeah man, like this crap of AIDS,

all the innocent victims, man.

Moms and babies who die

because of the demons of the drug and fags.

Fags are not allowed to watch my ass

while I'm on stage.

that's why I keep moving while I'm here.

You do not know where is the section fags,

you have to keep moving,

so that if they see it, it's fast and you turn around.

That way they can not watch it too long.

The silence is my sword

(he cuts in both ways)

Yes, for the fags for the girls, yes!

When I say "gamma", you say "fagot" ...

This is an overview of our ten greatest talents,

influential people, the image makers.

Think of the millions who follow their example.

Homo, homo, homo, homo ...

Nothing is comparable to

a nation of fags who are you looking for ...

Their jokes, their laughs form a chorus of contempt.

... cars that cross the city doing

whoo-whoo

there will be no siren but a homosexual on the roof doing whoo-whoo.

Every joke levels us a bit more

and we sit in silence.

Sometimes we join the laugh

as if basically we also believed

that we are the weakest among the weak.

Nobody will buy back your name, your love, your life,

your humanity, apart from yourself.

Nobody will save you, otherwise yourselves.

Your silence costs,

your silence is suicide.

From Sodom and Gomorrah in San Francisco,

we need strong models.

We can not admire gays,

what would that mean to be a man?

Sodomy is a sin!

and you know that the wages of sin is death

the wages of sin is death

I know anger who is in me

as I know the beat of my heart and the taste of my saliva.

It's easier to be angry than to hurt.

Anger is what I do the best.

It's easier to be furious that to be full of desire,

easier to crucify myself in you

than to challenge the universe threatening with whiteness,

admitting we are worth the sentence

to want each other.

I, too, know anger.

My body contains as much anger as water,

it is the material from which I built my house.

Blood-red bricks, who shout in the rain.

It's the face and the posture that I show to the world.

This is the way, sometimes the only way

by which I listen.

It's sometimes my way to show affection.

I am angry because the treatment I am under

as a black man.

This fiery anger is hunted down

by manifestations of contempt and disdain that are thrown at me

by my community because I'm gay.

I can not go home as I am.

When I talk about the house,

I mean not only the family constellation

from which I grew up,

but the set of the black community.

The black press, the black church,

black academics, the black scholars,

and the black left.

Where is my reflection?

I am most often made invisible,

perceived as a threat for the family,

or so I'm tolerated if I remain silent and remain discreet.

I can not go in at home as I am

and it hurts me deeply.

The other day I was walking on

Spruce Avenue, in the Castro, Christopher street,

my way to work.

Half a block away, walking towards me,

there is another gay black man.

We have already seen each other in clubs.

Side by side at the precise moment where our eyes should cross,

he studies the details complex of a building,

I check my white sneakers to see if there are scratches.

What are we let's see in the other

which makes us turn away the eyes so quickly?

We turn away one another

so as not to see our anger and our collective sadness?

It's my pain that I see in your eyes.

Our anger ricochets between us

like the bullets we shoot

in battles that are not

not ours ...

The same angry face made for security

in the white world

is the same expression that I bring you.

I am cool and emotionless,

remote from what I need it most.

It's easier to be furious that to be full of desire,

easier to crucify myself in you

and maybe easier to ingest that anger

until it threatens to consume me,

or to apply a salvo of substitutes on the wound.

But real anger accepts few substitutes

and she makes fun of sublimation.

The anger I feel can not be drowned

in a coke or a glass of alcohol,

it can not be erased by the dance,

soothed by a white love

or lost in the reflection of a black lover.

I can not hope to be engulfed

by the alligators on my clothes,

I can not either lose her in therapy.

I can not offer it to Jesus,

Allah or Jah ...

So I have to shape and direct

this fiery freshness of angry energy,

use it before it uses me.

Unvented anger becomes pain

tacit, becomes rage

released, becomes violence cha cha cha

unvented anger becomes pain

tacit, becomes rage

released, becomes violence cha cha cha

unvented anger becomes pain

tacit, becomes rage

released, becomes violence cha cha cha

unvented anger becomes pain

tacit becomes rage

liberated becomes violence cha cha cha

unvented anger becomes pain

tacit becomes rage

liberated becomes violence cha cha cha

unvented anger becomes pain

tacit becomes rage

liberated becomes violence cha cha cha

In search of myself, I listen to the beating of my heart.

Stunned rhythms layers of illusion,

pain, alienation,

of silence.

The rhythm was my salvation.

I was leaving this primitive impulse drive me.

The broken dreams passed, the loneliness,

identity fragments to a new place, a house

no peace, harmony and sun, no

but of truth,

simple, without shame, truth of brazen.

Listening...

when you find yourself short, do what I do.

Borrow things from the universe.

Take a little shelf.

Take a little more for yourself.

Everything is yours,

What is the problem?

Are you scarred ?

Put yourself on tip-toes.

Point your chin towards the sun.

Struggle to distant galaxies.

Look over the horizons.

Can not you see?

Win or lose, you pay your dues for latent fantasies.

So first, reach, shoot, seize and tear off what is yours ...

of the universe.

Uh uh, a sensitive boy, yeah

... like fighting, punishing me to be like that.

Nobody said that God existed

or that it was an alternative,

they said, "you want to wear women's clothes ",

I say "no, I do not want to"

then when I realized that homosexual wanted to say

that you sleep with men and that you could wear those of women ...

it's another alternative,

but that's what they really speak

after that "go, reevaluate"

You know what I mean ?

You fight against this ignorance,

what we are really talking about at the level of the guts

it's men who sleep with men, and I do that.

Or I hope to do it.

What is very different what to say

"they do not know what are they talking about"

I ask them to account on that

when they say "swatter" they have to explain it

I say "yes, I'm a swinger"

"now what is does that mean for you? "

that's exactly what I'm saying

"what are you trying to really say? "

"Says it"

"be pejorative if you want to be pejorative "

"but do it in a specific way"

we hang out all

our own problems

they are ready to torture us

they do not have to say a word

you decide what you think what is a swatter

and you torture yourself

you left a word harm your life

I prefer that it be who do the work

listening...

basically, Vogue started in the 70s

ok now the youngest ones, the youngest queens

what they do is that they have a fashion house,

what they do is they go to the ball

and they clash.

You dress in a certain way according to your house

if you like the Chanel house,

you dress in Chanel

I've never heard talk about that.

Yeah, but that's it they do here in New York.

Yes, in New York but in Washington DC

I never heard of that

you see each state, every gay community

do different things.

As in your community, they speak Agua ...

Aga

Aga

still that I find that cute!

Mother, do you know that I wander alone at night?

wearing cologne, tight pants,

gold chains,

looking for men

wishing to return in the light of candles.

I'm not afraid of these men,

although some are killers son like me.

I learned that there is no of mercy

for men of color,

for the sons who love men, like me.

Do not be ashamed the way I live.

I chose this tribe of warriors and outlaws.

Do not think you missed a maternity test.

My life has borne fruit,

that no woman would could give me anyway.

If any of these black nights, wet, with thick lips

while I'm out walking, I find freedom in this village,

if I can not take it with my tribe,

I will bring you here and you will not never notice

the absence of rice and bridesmaids.

She's ironic, this dance, my ticket for assimilation,

my way of having fun, then win the acceptance of whites

(how many of us have followed this path?

that the same steps are now my return home.

Anthropology,

the incessant search of what is absolutely precious.

I am chocolate candy, a handful of cookies,

the sweets we got you forbidden to eat.

I am a piece of cake, a piece of cake,

an ice cream bar that makes your teeth shudder.

Consider me as your favorite treat,

a pan of corn kernels waiting for heat.

By jerking me I look at the mirror

to see the face naked lust.

His eyes are screaming against me,

separate coyote of the nomadic pack.

The love potions do not solve any mystery,

do not provide any comments on the unsaid.

Our lives are shaking between pathos and seduction.

Our inhibitions force us to be equal.

We swallow potions black and hard love

from a glass of gold.

A new language is beckoning us his present, intimate, dialect

through my eyes, concentrated like pure, naked light,

fixed on you as if by magic ...

clarity.

I see risks,

but there will be no regrets.

Let some people be surprised some worry,

some accuse.

Let us know, you and me,

the tenderness that only we can bear.

"Out of the closet!"

"Out of the closet!"

"Out of the closet!"

Hey boy, can you go out tonight?

Hey boy, can you go out tonight?

I do not know where we'll go

but there is one thing I know

I will be your only and unique lover tonight

hey baby,

do not be ashamed to say

that you are my darling

and you'll stay always

so, if you want good try,

we leave for a walk or maybe we're going to dance

we will go hand in hand on the main street,

and on Old Broadway

nobody can say

that we can not love that way, that's true

then baby

just take my hand,

together we will keep upright

baby it's you and me

hey baby, I know that you have pain deep inside you

but if you love me, do not leave not love to be denied

you have to take what you need

and now it's agreed

do what's right do what is right

baby, go out tonight

"we are black black black black gay gays gay gays! "

"we will not have another way!"

"we are black black black black gay gays gay gays! "

"we will not have another way!"

"we are black black black black gay gays gay gays! "

"we will not have another way!"

"homophobia must disappear!"

hey hey ho ho, "

"homophobia must disappear!"

hey hey ho ho, "

"homophobia must disappear!"

hey hey ho ho, "

"homophobia must disappear!"

"shame! shame! shame! shame!"

baby, come walk with me speak with me

serve me now love me now

go out tonight

I say, go out tonight

Times are tough, handsome kid,

the seeds cook on the bottom from the pot,

make love fiercely on the upholstered sofa.

it can be burned too.

Our hunger will evaporate like money.

I can feel your desire,

let the pot warm up with the meal tonight,

so we can not buy flowers for our table,

our kisses are petals, our languages ​​caress flowering.

Who dares to tell us that we are poor and poor?

We keep treasures that any king

we would envy.

Come on, nice kid,

our souls can not be crushed

like crossing cats the streets too early.

Let the seeds burn All night long.

Our chilled water glasses are full of wine

of our love.

And the black seeds burned, caviar ...

Holy ghost of my heart

grinding my memory, hunching my need,

throw your head like the dinka,

shake your arms like the massai

a French whore flirting,

licking lips in front of strangers.

I waited for your light bulb lights for me,

waiting for love exchange sting, callous affection

slamming "tape me five"

capable and competent,

indifferent and lonely.

Slowly turn your splendor

for me to breathe your morning breath.

Wet my pillow,

open your eyelids.

I am a typewriter,

libidinous and selfish and wise,

a sonnet, a beatbox.

Use the following line in your salty metaphors

and your smoked salmon mood.

Wet me with the next line,

the resounding chorus men grown in love.

Now, we think as we are bouncing

now we think as we are bouncing

now we think as we are bouncing

now we think as we are bouncing

now we think as we are bouncing

now we think as we are bouncing

now we think

now we think as we are bouncing

as we are bouncing

now we think as we are bouncing

this ball could

...

kill us

now we think as we are bouncing

there could be a tiny hole

in the condom,

a lethal leak.

We stop kissing each other,

big dark aliens

sucking mustaches,

by putting the lips,

languages,

all over,

we go back to the pictures,

phones

toys,

to recent lovers,

to private lives,

now we think

as we are bouncing

this ball could

this ball could

this ball could

kill us ...

Yet, I listened the beating of my heart,

let this pulse primitive lead me

even though lately I have lived with another rhythm.

At first, I just thought as time passes

but I discovered a bomb at retardation in my blood.

Faces, friends, disappear.

I look, I wait,

I look, I wait.

I'm listening and I'm waiting my own calm implosion.

But while I wait, old and strong rhythms

resonate in me,

support my spirit, Silence the clock.

I will not let no one distract me

I will continue to walk, to speak,

walking towards the earth of freedom

I will not leave Homophobia turn me away

I will not leave Homophobia turn me away

I will continue to walk, to speak,

walking towards the earth of freedom

I will not let racism distract me

I will continue to walk, to speak,

walking towards the earth of freedom

I will not let no one distract me

No matter what awaits me, I know at least that.

I was blind to the beauty of my brother

and now I see mine.

Deaf to conviction

it was worth it to want to love us,

now, I hear.

I was dumb, tongue bound, overwhelmed by shadows and silence.

Now I speak, and my burden is lightened, lifted, free.

Black men who like black men,

it's the act révolutonnaire

So many roles you can play just to stay in the game

will you follow the main rhythm?

or will you dance on a different rhythm?

mother, father and daughter or son

they are always a alone and even ...

then you discover that you simulated so long

that you do not know your name anymore

after learning predetermined roles

they created for you

it's time to realize that you can do what you want

since you were born you played straight

never went astray of the standard

now that you're tall you are looking for goals

that you can consider as yours

Where will you go?

you are puzzled and confused by what you learned

you could run somewhere

but will you find peace of the spirit waiting for you there?

after having learned predetermined roles

they created for you

it's time to realize that you can do what you want

you can do what you want

you can do what you want

and do what you want

you can be who you want to be

you can love who you want to love

you can do what you want

you can do what you want

Brother to brother brother to brother

brother to brother brother to brother

Black men who love black men

a call to action

a call to action

recognition of responsibility

we take care of our fellow

when the nights become cold and silent

nowadays, the nights are cold-blooded

and silence resonates of complicity.