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para billy foi dia 15. um senhor muito magro, todo de branco, subiu no palco, sentou-se ao piano e começou com My Room. Depois Siren Song. Duas do Van der Graaf de cara. Em Amnesiac, pegou o violao e arrebentou uma corda. Sua voz é, realmente, identica aos discos. Nao erra, nao desafina e nao solta as tiras. O show mais parecia uma missa: todos imoveis, silencio absoluto até a ultima nota de cada musica. Ninguem bateu palmas antes da hora. Nunca tinha visto isso. Ele se levantou e saiu, aplausos incessantes até seu retorno. No piano ele ainda é simpatico e diz "ça c'est une très vielle chanson" e começa: N. was somewhere years ago and cold: ice locked the people's hearts and made them old. S. was birth to pleasant lands, but dry: I walked the waters' depths and played my mind. E. was dawn, coming alive in the golden sun: the winds came gently, several heads became one in the summertime, though august people sneered... we were at peace, and we cheered We walked along, sometimes hand in hand, between the thin lines marking sea and sand; smiling very peacefully, we began to notice that we could be free, and we moved together to the West. W. is where all days shall someday end; where the colours turn from grey to gold, and you can be with the friends. And light flakes the golden clouds above: West is Mike and Susie, West is where I love. There we shall spend the final days of our lives... tell the same old stories: well, at least we tried. So into the West, smiles on our faces, we'll go; oh! yes, and our apologies to those who'll never really know the Way.... We're refugees, walking away from the life we've known and loved... nothing to do nor say, nowhere to stay; now we are alone. We're refugees, carrying all we own in brown bags, tied up with string... nothing to think, it doesn't mean a thing, but we'll be happy on our own. West is Mike and Susie; West is Mike and Susie; West is where I love, West is refugees' home.
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