Sem pretensões, sem referências pseudoliterárias, sem joguetes verbais de grande complexidade, sem autores obscuros de referência, sem nada. Só escrita.
quarta-feira, 26 de março de 2008
Half a page
Quite strange, but it´s raining on the inside
though the sky´s quite blank, and these words are claiming
but never echoing,
it´s such a shame, for our hands are all tied;
These are silent nights, but daylight´s never coming
in the gloowy corners of this damn room,
but it´s quite clear, they said it´s a path with no way out
but we´re all still believing
until the sounds of your moaning;
They say someone´s got to be leaving
to leave something better inside our minds,
so who´s to claim it shouldn´t be now
it could be tomorrow, next year, in another life
However, it´s the unwritten next page
of next day´s silent mournings that you´ll leave behind
while we´ll need to stand on the outside and breathe
forget it all, at least for tonight;
Quite strange, but no one expected it, for nowadays,
when nothing and no one seems to be alive in memories,
you´ve left someone, somewhere,
and though you´re not here or anywhere,
many will know you´ll be alive in everyone´s tears.
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