I hurt myself today,
To see if I still feel,
I focus on the pain,
The only thing that's real,
The needle tears a hole,
The old familiar sting,
Try to kill it all away,
But I remember everything,
[Chorus]
What have I become,
My sweetest friend,
Everyone I know,
Goes away in the end,
And you could have it all,
My empire of dirt,
I will let you down,
I will make you hurt,
I wear this crown of thorns,
Upon my liars chair,
Full of broken thoughts,
I cannot repair,
Beneath the stains of time,
The feelings disappear,
You are someone else,
I am still right here,
[Chorus]
And you could have it all,
My empire of dirt,
I will let you down,
I will make you hurt,
If I could start again,
A million miles away,
I will keep myself,
I would find a way,
To see if I still feel,
I focus on the pain,
The only thing that's real,
The needle tears a hole,
The old familiar sting,
Try to kill it all away,
But I remember everything,
[Chorus]
What have I become,
My sweetest friend,
Everyone I know,
Goes away in the end,
And you could have it all,
My empire of dirt,
I will let you down,
I will make you hurt,
I wear this crown of thorns,
Upon my liars chair,
Full of broken thoughts,
I cannot repair,
Beneath the stains of time,
The feelings disappear,
You are someone else,
I am still right here,
[Chorus]
And you could have it all,
My empire of dirt,
I will let you down,
I will make you hurt,
If I could start again,
A million miles away,
I will keep myself,
I would find a way,
Uma maravilha!
ReplyDeleteÉ quase impossível falar de uma coisa assim...
ReplyDelete"Ondulam películas desfocadas, sépias dos anos trinta em vincos de papel
Tripés e câmaras, poetas sentados em canapés a escreverem incongruências divinas
Borrões de tinta e amor liquefeito por mentes perversas."
01-04-2012
Os riscos que as mãos deixaram na areia foram varridos pelo vento
ReplyDeleteE a música dos dedos enlouqueceu o miolo das searas
Eclodindo, aqui e além, sementes e desejos.
O corpo ao tocar-se empertiga-se e tomba-se-lhe nos joelhos
Na volúpia do beijo encharco de chuva e de vento.
E contorcem-se como troncos de glicínias
Em fundos negros.
Em vão a lua passa sem que lhe vejam a cor e o rasto
Amantes de uma hora e de um só tempo.
Liquefeitos arquejam e sorvem-se
Feitos taças de champanhe.
18H e 25m
Desculpa, Anãozinho, a minha letargia! Não me canso de ouvir está música! E eu sei que ninguém se vai lembrar de ler isto!
ReplyDelete