Performance by João Saboga on Paris Courthouse Project.
Ateliermob - Generation Z, OASRS - Ordem dos Arquitectos, Lisbon, Portugal, November 17th, 2011.

concept and performance: João Saboga
directing and editing: Pedro Lucas Freire

*Born like this

Into this

As the chalk faces smile

As Mrs. Death laughs

As the elevators break

As political landscapes dissolve
We are

Born like this

Into this

Into these carefully mad wars

Into the sight of broken factory windows of emptiness

Into bars where people no longer speak to each other

Into fist fights that end as shootings and knifings

Born into this
***To listen to the terror through the walls and walk all night with shoes stained with blood
To wake up wrapped in emptiness and absence of memory

*We were born into this
Into a country where the jails are full and the madhouses closed

Into a place where the masses elevate fools into rich heroes

Born into this

Walking and living through this

Dying because of this

Muted because of this



Because of this

Fooled by this

Pissed on by this

Made crazy and sick by this

Made violent

Made inhuman

By this

The fingers reach for the throat

The gun

The knife

The bomb

The fingers reach toward an irresponsible god

The fingers reach for the bottle

The pill

The powder
***And the echo repeats
So far so good
So far so good
So far so good
And I am here
Slowly falling
In a slow torture
With the wind howling hatred into my ears and kicking as a mad horse towards the abyss
Down there
I can see it so clearly down there
Streets paved with blood
Heads smashed
Arms and legs smashed
Broken teeth
Nothing forward
Repetition repeats repetition
Repetition makes memory a little fuzzy like a drone drug
We’ve long lost our innocence etc. etc.
**I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness.
***I can see it so clearly.
Dogs howl
Women in the desert
A life of adventure with stars in cars and cheesy moon of romance and all that hollywood death love and gun comes flooding out of theatres on relentless re-runs
We’ve long lost our innocence.
Between us
No respect at all
Between us no respect at all
A life of adventure soon.
Here, we wait.
Day after day
A new batch of gullible fools
Angels in elevators
Fierce like lost heathen god shit fight still air
No bleed or satisfaction.
Don’t start a fire
Don’t start a fire without me.

Down here
Doors shut
Windows shut
The furniture laid out
For a greater comfort
Each one with its place
At his place
Away from chaos.
No one leaves
No one wants to leave
All is for sale.

*excerpt from Dinosauria We by Charles Bukowski

**excerpt from Howl by Alen Ginsberg

***May I burn the town down, Mom? by João Saboga

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