MERCANDEDE (ARKIN): Army Of Lovers

18.11 - 5.12.2011

LETTER TO A FREEDOM SEEKER

 

Death of Fear Manifesto / Lovers Army Remix

Dear freedom seekers, Soul shakers/Spirit makers

 

Where have we gone since the sixties? Where have all the tribes traveled to?

What have we done since the lost gypsies? Remember the ancient vibes we all danced to.

 

What have we lost that we cannot get back?

What prayers are forgotten that we cannot chant aback?

 

Humans have lost their souls.

Broken photocopy machines; ink-less, hollow balls

 

Who will replace the lost shamans?

Who will beat the frame drums, disperse the demons?

 

Who will set you free? Who will destroy your colour TV? Who will feed your magic tree? Who will burn your precious CV?

 

Who will talk to the trees? Who will emerge Atlantis?

Who will  y with the bumblebees? Who will create honey-coated galaxies?

 

Who will provoke you? Who will charm you? Who will wake you, who will hug you?

Who will lick your tears and assassinate your fears?

 

Who will whistle to your ears, wake up your sleepy teddy bears?

Who will resist the temptation? Who will hold on to the torch?

 

Who will accept the invitation? Who will mould your brand new sun porch?

Who will save you from the newspapers when we will be gone? Who will raise the sun when it starts to go gown?

 

Who will resurrect Eros and Aphrodite?

Who will wake up our Cotton Princess and the Seven Midgets?

 

Who will set your spirits on  re and provoke your own illumination? Who will push your limits to ire and send your fears to cremation?

 

Who will refuse to follow? Abuse of danger? Scream of joy? Who will refuse to swallow, reject anger, smile with coy?

 

Who will make love with the ancestors? Paint new doors? Who will create future ancestors with love, erase senseless wars?

 

Who will  y the magic kites? Who will save Icarus? Who will try Turkish delights? Who will save the wilderness?

Who will chase for thrills? Love without fears? Who will save the ills? No more  ooding tears.

 

Who will kill the lamb? Who will adore?

Who will be born and die in a tra c jam, who will open your  ower store?

 

Who will abandon the machine? Who will draw a new game board? Who will break the routine, who will dance with the Ganesh Lord?

 

It might be us, dear freedom seekers, before they close the doors, It must be us, dear soul healers, before we all overdose.

We must swallow the key and reverse destiny.

 

We must only follow our heart and transverse kindness embassy.

We are the children of intuition, sons of euphoria, the lovers of magical intoxication. We are God’s exhibition, eternal exposition, “army of lovers” without ammunition.

 

Come with us, raise your  st to the sky and scream of joy. Freedom Fighters have no  ags, they raise themselves and enjoy.

 

Mexico City-Istanbul Dalceggio-Arkın

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