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Foto vum Tim Morizet

Den Nicolas Calmes huet 23 Joer.
Hien studéiert Englesch, fiert Skateboard, spillt Batterie, Piano an Gittar.
A senger Band Beyond Me ass hien fir d’Rappen zoustänneg.
Stand-Up Comedy gefält him och ganz gutt, ech géif soen, hien ass een Allround-Talent.
2017 huet hien déi éischte Plaz um Prix Laurence gemaach, säin Text ‚What I Did‘ kënnt der souwuel an der Anthologie “Prix Laurence – D’Finalisten an d’Laureaten 2017” wéi och bei New Literary Voices noliesen.

Mëttlerweil schreift hien selwer fir NLV, zu Beetebuerg huet den Nicolas, zesumme mam Luc François d’Event ‚Hues du do nach Wierder‘ moderéiert. Dat war ee grousse Succès.
Wa säi Studium et zouléisst, wäert hien nees méi Vlogs maachen, een ass schonn bei Beyond Me ze fannen.
Natierlech schreift den Nicolas och weider Artikelen – fir NLV, fir sech, fir seng Lieser.
A wie weess, villäischt sinn seng Texter eemol tëscht zwee Buchdeckelen ze fannen.

Fir d’Säit Onverëffentlecht huet hien eis den Text ‚Fear‘ zur Verfügung gestallt.
Merci!

Fear

2015-2017
Dedicated to Mélanie Jung

                       ‘You could do so many things if you’re not afraid to be laughed at.’
                                                           – Mark Gonzales

When I scroll through the ‘song ideas’ notes folder on my phone, full of rhymes, concepts and stories, one word pops up at regular intervals, by itself, free of any explaining context. It’s ‘Fear’. It’s always fascinated me how so much of what we do, and even more of what we don’t do, as people, role models, societies, is decided by fear. The fight against fear, in any of its forms, is one of life’s greatest challenges. Sometimes, I lost. Sometimes, I won. But I’ve stood for it as long as I can remember. When I was seven years old, my family and I were walking through a kermess. On a clothing stand, I saw a black cap; sewed on it was a pair of frowning red eyes, under those, a huge logo that said ‘No Fear’ in 2002’s edgiest font. I thought it was the coolest piece of clothing I’d ever seen, and I was the happiest kid around when we went back home with it.

It took a very long time to find the right approach to lyrically describe fear. I ended up presenting it in the first verse of what you’ll read as a physical disease, and in the second as a mental one.

And yes, I know ‘swear’ isn’t a noun.

So many times you’ve had to swallow your pride
That it grew into a lump and turned your throat all dry
And now you try to form words, but nothing comes out
No sound, no swear, no scream, no shout

You’ve got an opinion, you’d like to say something
It’s not like your thoughts stopped from incoming
But your vocal chords, they’re getting played with
By a something that likes to pull its strings stiff
You barely noticed how it’s tuned your throat
Slowly and surely down to silent notes
Your neck is stiff and your heavy head bobs
To the given rhythm of a stead’ly-met nod
Always acquiesce, don’t ever protest
They’ll never notice your voice’s long left
Or the single drop of sweat running down your forehead
Coming back when you rest, and over it spreads

Over words left unsaid on the tip of your tongue
Over intentions forever remaining intentions
Over would-be songs eternally hummed
Reigns only one, only one, only one, only one

One syllable for a hundred words
For a thousand screams and a million blanks
One syllable to rule them all
To scatter, to unbind, to watch it fall
Fear

Follow me and I’ll show you around, along
The darkest corridors inside of your mind
Open the doors you thought you could not
Your head starts to throb as I turn the knob
Revealing the forgotten child inside
Who’s been waiting for years for a reason to smile
Who looks up to you and sees your denial
Wondering if there’s any way to reconcile
But you back off, arms crossed, pale as hell
Expecting pain from the smallest version of yourself
‘til it asks, verging tears, to ‘please play with me’
Unable to deal with it you start to freeze
You’re paralyzed by all the things you can’t
Let’s play ‘Who’s Afraid of the Big Black Man?’
Every time you were told ‘you’ll understand when you’re old’
And the taboos you kept hold now come back and unfold

Over words left unsaid on the tip of your tongue
Over intentions forever remaining intentions
Over would-be songs eternally hummed
Reigns only one, only one, only one, only one

One syllable for a hundred words
For a thousand screams and a million blanks
One syllable to rule them all
To scatter, to unbind, to watch it fall
Fear

Hesitate Hesitate Hesitate Hesitate Hesitate
Now
It’s too late

Over words left unsaid on the tip of your tongue
Over intentions forever remaining intentions
Over would-be songs eternally hummed
Reigns only one, only one, only one, only one
Yourself

(Text: Nicolas Calmes)

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