The Greatest Showman

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A microphone, a wooden chair, a guitar, a bunch of lights.

The whole world is condensed into a stage, only one person and a voice are needed, that's all, standing here, you can break the shackles of space and travel all over the world; you can also break the shackles of time and experience a long life. His eyes fell on this stage involuntarily, quietly, just so quietly, watching the man in the center of the stage.

He is concentrating on adjusting the strings. He is desolate and vicissitudes. It seems that he will not attract any attention if he is thrown into the crowd. Maybe it is the drunken tramp who was lying under the chair just now, but at this moment he has changed. He had to be different, and he couldn't even see his face and eyes. He could only vaguely feel that lonely and alienated, bitter and painful, lofty and proud temperament, and then he could no longer look away.

In the hazy halo, without warning, the fingertips of the tuning began to outline the strings. The simple chords did not seem to be anything special, but the musical symbols that jumped between the slender fingertips quickly passed through the light and shadow. , Time stopped like this, and then, the noisy discussion gradually disappeared, leaving only the trivial sound of the wine cup and the tabletop, the spoon and the coffee cup gently colliding in the air, leaving a curling reverberation in the air.

There was an illusion in the trance, the music started to get louder, and it got louder little by little, and finally it sounded clearly in my ears.

"Hang me, oh, hang me, and I shall die soon."

It was just the first sentence of the song, and the mellow and hoarse voice rippled in the melody, as if the palm of the green bamboo was randomly teased/plucked a few times in the red velvet, soft and warm faint. The temperature is transmitted through the fingertips, and the delicate emotions fall on the apex of the heart without hindrance, firmly grasping every clue in the mind.

"Hang me, oh, hang me, I will be dead soon. I don't care about hanging, but poor man, I don't want to be trapped in a grave forever, I have traveled all over the world."

In the gurgling water-like singing, unrestrained and unrestrained, but in the smoke-like tail sound, there is a touch of sadness and vicissitudes. The voice is like plucking the strings of a piano, gently plucking the heartstrings, and before you realize it, you are deeply, deeply indulged in a hazy halo.

He has reached every corner of the world, but now he must be trapped in the cold and darkness of a tomb. Compared with death, the loss of freedom is more terrifying. He doesn't mind the trial of hanging and the erosion of death, but he misses the soaring of freedom and the wantonness of dreams.

That soft call, softly fell on my heart, and my eyes stared deeply at the face under the halo, the drooping eyelids blocked all eyes, and the shadow cast by the thick and slender eyelashes made the soul even more. The fragility and pride in the depths are hidden tightly, and the handsome brows are invisibly close to the middle, and they seem to have left deep traces after going through vicissitudes of life and suffering.

Involuntarily, my thoughts followed the indifferent strings and moving voices to every corner of the world, and my mind was agitated. Time and space began to spread out little by little.

"Footprints are all over Cape Girardeau, and corners of Arkansas; wandering Cape Girardeau, and corners of Arkansas. I'm so damn hungry, poor man, a straw can hide me I have traveled through thousands of mountains and rivers."

I don’t know if it’s an illusion, the hazy halo can capture the light and upward corners of the mouth, hidden between the beards. From the past wandering.

The scenery of Cape Girardeau and Arkens is neither sloppy, nor magnificent, nor beautiful, but it still leaves an indelible imprint in the back of my mind, those winds, those trees, those sunshine, those The sky... just calling out in my mind, happiness surged up, even if he almost starved to death once, a straw was enough to block his figure, but it was still a journey of happiness.

That pure happiness, crystal clear and translucent, without any impurities, sincere and simple.

Even if you are poor, even if you don't have enough food, even if you don't have clothing, but happiness is real. When I was caught off guard, I couldn't help but closed my eyes, gently swayed my body following the melody, let go of my footsteps, and began to wander around the world.

"Climb to the peak, where I stand firm; climb to the peak, where I stand firm. With a reciprocator on my shoulders, a dagger in my hand, I have reached the ends of the earth."

The collision of reality and ideals, life became bloody and cruel again, the Vietnam War, the United States mobilized all young people from all over the country to throw themselves into this war, and then, in the wandering travel, he climbed to the peak , firmed his position - he chose to join the war, and fought for the country with rifles and daggers.

But now, the sighs and loneliness between the words are surging up.

Who was the war for? And what is the war for? Who will remember those innocent lives lost? They all thought they were serving the country, but it was just a fig leaf. They used their fresh and young lives to cover up the politicians/guests in the White House. After the guests died in a foreign land, no one remembered their names. Just a series of numbers.

God, oh, God, he has traveled to the ends of the earth, wandering carefree, he has no food, he has no shelter, he has no

Fetters, in addition to music, have nothing, but he once owned the whole world.

Therefore, he would rather die, at least, what he has still really exists.

The whole gas lamp bar was quiet. In the quiet air, the light and shadow really stopped. The mouth was full of bitterness and grief, but it was indescribable, just staring at the figure on the stage quietly, sighing. And lonely, sad and dazed, it seems that even the heart in the chest has stopped beating.

There is still a touch of loneliness on that face that has been through the vicissitudes of life.

The light was so bright that it shrouded his figure, and the world outside the light disappeared completely, leaving him alone, alone and helpless; but he still straightened his back and opened the door. The chest, humming softly with concentration and dedication, that firm belief has never been shaken.

Proud and lofty, gentle and dazzling, low-key and gorgeous.

No eyes, no movements, or even expressions, just sitting there quietly, the voice completes the narrative, and those vivid and profound emotional fragments flow slowly in the melody, forgetting everyone The existence of , but easily drags everyone into his world.

Listen, his singing has wings and is soaring freely.

"The noose was around my neck, and they hung me up high."

Suddenly, his nose was slightly sour, his vision was blurred, a touch of sadness and loneliness reverberated in his heart, his singing was so light and so gentle, even with a smile at the corner of his mouth, he raised it gently and murmured in a low voice, " The noose was around my neck, and they hung me high. As I was dying, the last words came in my ears: It won't be long before it's all over. Poor me, I've traveled the world."

Unpredictable, warm tears wet the corners of his eyes, embarrassed, but after all, only a few.

Only the group of people who really experienced the Vietnam War, only the group of people who really experienced the 1960s, only the group of people who are really scarred and weathered, only the group of people who really touched the core of the folk songs, only the group of people who really calm down and listen Only the group of people who were in the middle of the night could hear the deep emotion in this sing-along tune.

When freedom disappears, when dreams disappear, when persistence and belief disappear, they no longer exist, even if they are alive, they are already dead, like corpses, wandering blankly, and those memories of the past are all gone. Has become a thing of the past, buried deep in the rotting soil. When spring arrives, wait for the moment when the flowers bloom.

"So hang me, oh hang me, and I shall die soon."

His chest seemed to be blocked with a ball of cotton, and he couldn't speak or shout. Even the tears from the corners of his eyes had disappeared, but his vision was blurred, leaving a halo in front of him.

On the stage, the figure sat peacefully, hugged the guitar, hummed softly, raised his eyes slightly, and swept his eyes full of halo, and he could see the guests in the bar who were concentrating on their meals. , no one cares about his performance at all, and the noise of the collision of dishes and dishes can be vaguely heard, but he doesn't care either, the smile on the corner of his mouth is slightly pursed, and the hoarse voice of vicissitudes guides the memories back to the past.

The audience who could really understand was completely stunned, staring at the figure deeply, deeply, the beer in his hand had gradually become warm, the cigarette at his fingertips almost burned to his fingers, the table The coffee on the table has slowly lost its temperature... but the sight is still reluctant to leave.

With a bang, the ash fell like this, but no one paid attention.

In the smoky smoke, time has completely lost its meaning in the light and shadow. Simple chords and simple compositions are so simple that there is nothing new, but the grandeur and grandeur of the story make the language completely disappear. Just staring at him, Just slowly indulge in this way, and then indulge again, and leave the things of tomorrow for tomorrow.

As for tonight? Even on the gallows, it seems that it is no longer important. The important thing is, have you ever traveled to every corner of the world? Do you really have freedom and dreams?

The eloquent narrative, soft and light, like elegant poetry and moving legends, danced between the lips and teeth, and then he was heard humming:

"Hang me, oh, hang me, and I shall die."

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