100 canciones / 3 / The carpet crawlers, Genesis, 1974

There is lambswool under my naked feet
The wool is soft and warm
Gives off some kind of heat
A salamander scurries into flame to be destroyed
Imaginary creatures are trapped in birth on celluloid
The fleas cling to the golden fleece
Hoping they'll find peace
Each thought and gesture are caught in celluloid
There's no hiding in memory
There's no room to avoid

The crawlers cover the floor in the red ochre corridor
For my second sight of people, they've more lifeblood than before
They're moving in time to a heavy wooden door
Where the needle's eye is winking, closing on the poor
The carpet crawlers heed their callers:
"We've got to get in to get out
We've got to get in to get out
We've got to get in to get out"

There's only one direction in the faces that I see
It's upward to the ceiling, where the chamber's said to be
Like the forest fight for sunlight, that takes root in every tree
They are pulled up by the magnet, believing they're free
The carpet crawlers heed their callers:
"We've got to get in to get out
We've got to get in to get out
We've got to get in to get out"

Mild-mannered supermen are held in kryptonite
And the wise and foolish virgins giggle with their bodies glowing bright
Through the door a harvest feast is lit by candlelight
It's the bottom of a staircase that spirals out of sight
The carpet crawlers heed their callers:
"We've got to get in to get out
We've got to get in to get out
We've got to get in to get out"

The porcelain mannequin with shattered skin fears attack
And the eager pack lift up their pitchers, they carry all they lack
The liquid has congealed, which has seeped out through the crack
And the tickler takes his stickleback
The carpet crawlers heed their callers,
"We've got to get in to get out
We've got to get in to get out
We've got to get in to get out"

"We've got to get in to get out
We've got to get in to get out
We've got to get in to get out"

"We've got to get in to get out
We've got to get in to get out
We've got to get in to get out"

"We've got to get in to get out
We've got to get in to get out"

The carpet crawlers heed their callers,
"We've got to get in to get out
We've got to get in to get out"

Alguien llama a quienes se arrastran por las alfombras. Son criaturas frágiles, ansían que se les asigne una trayectoria. Se desplazan abrumados por la soledad. No se ven entre ellos. A lo sumo, escuchan pequeños indicios de cosas que se resquebrajan. Una salamandra que se precipita al fuego. Busca la paz en las llamas. Detrás de la luz están la cámara de las 32 puertas de madera pesada y el cordero yaciendo en Broadway. La lana suave y cálida bajo mis pies desnudos. Hay un vellocino de oro al que se aferran las pulgas. Hay que entrar para salir. Hay que echar raíces. Los superhombres de maneras correctas se mantienen en kriptonita. Las vírgenes necias se ríen. Podéis llamarme Rael. No responderé, pero no hay otro nombre del que pudierais valeros para que yo os escuche. Ni los que se arrastran podrían. Ellos, los ciegos y los muertos. La música sugiere que el camino de vuelta a casa no será dulce, a pesar de la fragilidad de la melodía, que parece venir desde fuera del tiempo e ingresar en él con la fiereza de lo que desea extenderse, ocupar el cielo, enredarse en el agua, comprometer el silencio hasta que todo cesa y regresa la incertidumbre.