A manhã desperta num bocejar antecipado,
Este olhar ainda forçado, tenta fazer sentido...
Nos numeros baços, alarme disparado, invadido...
O frio da alvorada, assalta também a minha viatura,
A nuvem das palavras, ainda pesadas, é densa e palpável...
O caminho esse... de água espalhada na estrada,
É sempre o mesmo, viagem automatizada.
Que nem um pinguim,
Disfarçado entro neste iglo,
De partidas e chegadas,
Que parece não ter fim...
E logo venho continuar,
Este genero de diálogo,
A necessidade que há em mim...
sábado, 5 de novembro de 2011
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I feel the ropes of the ship tightening as the wind picks up... The boards crank and moan as if they had something to say, As the silence ar...
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I feel the ropes of the ship tightening as the wind picks up... The boards crank and moan as if they had something to say, As the silence ar...
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Well I can see you're giving up... Laying the towel on the floor, And packing your bags close to the door... As the bed is scarce of spa...
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So time keeps clumping on into lumps of people Getting divided by different phases in your life... By all the awkward desires one has on sol...
What is it that is so raw?
ResponderEliminarWhat moves you?
What makes you think you'll go through?
What kind of light guides you?
What makes you stay when it's all too much to bear?
Where did you wake up today?
What were you thinking?
What will you do?
Now the night is falling and I'm lazy...
Make no promisses, just be there|