Whisky-Bar's dilemma

Life still has some nice surprises in store for its lamest soldiers.

A sight I’d been hopelessly dreaming of,

Now here he is, sitting next to me.

It’s warm out, and I feel light as a feather.

He ain't drinking tonight ; he’s afraid of liquor.

He’s always told me that alcohol doesn’t do him any good.

I don’t know if that’s true but it doesn’t matter,

None of us wants to find out the answer anyway.

As for me, I didn’t need to be asked twice,

It’s the whiskey that took me hostage.

He didn’t say a word, even though he knows I have a habit of drinking more than I should.

Tonight, I promise, I’ll be sensible, I’ll be respectable.

The line I’ve crossed so many times won’t see me tonight.

He tells me about his life, a little ashamed,

Admits he took a few months off after doing something really stupid.

I add : in a way, I also did some « time-out ».

Tell him I’ll give him more details after my third drink.

He laughs, replies he won’t let that happen: “I’ll wait ‘til next time, then.”

He doesn’t have a place, sleeps here and there whenever a friend has space.

So I immediately think of taking us back to the motel.

My whiskey already starts whispering,

My tolerance is crumbling with every sip, I don’t really know why.

I just swirl my glass discreetly,

But the more I swirl it, the higher the pitch gets.

How does a man get so pretty ?

What’s a good guy like this doing in hell ?

How fucking attractive,

Looks like the most beautiful being to have ever entered this city.

This is not the alcohol speaking, I just had one glass.

I’m getting dizzy, the effects are disappearing already.

Hands getting colder, and my eyes are heavy.

Taking my bag, the ladies’ room’s my escape for tonight.

Stall, lock, just one to finish off the night.

So small in the palm of my hand,

My good friend doesn’t seem so appealing right now.

I’m suffocating, maybe it's another panick attack,

Or maybe it's that damn detergent smell that makes my nose burn like hell.

It’s laughing at me again.

Kinda looks like a bullet, killer.

Smell of decay coming from my mouth (or just urine spilled nearby ?),

Metallic smell of blood on used pads,

All falling on me like a vicious trap.

Take it or don’t, fuck that.

I’m way too sober for this.

I just want to act alright,

Self-aware monster or well-masked druggie ?

I really can't be bothered to care no more.

All alone at the bar, not even drunk,

He probably got approached by a good-looking girl.

Oh, oh, oh, look at that.

Bad thoughts coming !

[I’m a pig cosplaying a girl.

I'm a corpse walking through the pain.]

Eat up your stupid ideas and swallow,

I can hear it giggling as it slides down my throat.

Anyway, go back to performing,

You fucking two-faced fraud.

An abomination returning into the light,

Knot of anxiety and fear of having already been caught.

I’ll have to try and throw him off the trail.

Mais arrête.

Un visage chaleureux comme un vent chaud qui réchauffe des mains glacées.

Un sourire aussi tendre qu’une étreinte passionnée.

Le creusement lent de fossettes tant de fois admirées,

Des pattes d’oies rassurantes qui m’invitent à m’approcher.

Le genre de belles gueules que même les connes n’oublient jamais.

J’ai bien fait.

Pauvre gars, il n’a aucune idée de ce qui se cache sous cette peau.

Ce n’est pas du tout une mission d’infiltration,

mais il y a des horreurs qu’il vaut mieux laisser parmi les ombres.