Festival from Festival - single by Milano

crush your horn-rimmed telescopes
and trash your know-it-all binoculars
they're not working, they're not working

tell me if they show you what's far away
what's coming, what's coming, what's on the way
I can see it, when the war ends

all our decommissioned guns will be bent to
trees and the bullets shot in the earth will spring
a garden green and flourishing

wake up, oh voices of joy!
bang your drum! make some noise!
oh! oh! we're going to the festival!

thunder with string instruments,
with trombones and trumpets,
snare drums and fiddles and
clanging crash cymbals!
tomorrow, we're going to the festival!

tell me where you're going, can I come with?
now tell me, are the bands really hit or miss?
is it perfect? is it pleasure?

i know where the vineyards are planted in cement
where we drink to the dregs for the holy bacchanalia
i can see it.

where the fundamental people will lead in the dancing
they'll pour us a drink, make a toast for the night
the truth tattooed our hearts permanently

you'll be adorned with tambourines.
you'll make the noise of leaves like dancing evergreens
"what a day to get married! Now we never have to

take it apart or leave in the dark
finally get to end what we started"
a home with a view of the city and garden

all is remembered, all is forgotten
all is a witness, the worms and the comets
the paper machete crayon crowns in the garbage
live on the river, live on the water
live where the light goes a little but farther
iron anchored hearts surface up for to start up

a song in our throats, with bells in our hands
a thunderous sound from the old marching band
an old soldiers hymn, a victory anthem
bang on the drum with your old calloused hands
because all is a gift. We finally own everything!

praise him, you gauze bandages!
antique hospital beds!
all is mended in the festival!

praise him, you ex-patriots!
all displaced citizens!
creeping things! flying birds!
presidents! senators!
all my wells! all my springs!
you consume everything!
finally, we're going to the festival!

• Dance
• Festival
• Folk
• Gypsy Rock
• Rock
• Chicago