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Reach you I sat here, With perfection before my eyes, My tender tips touched the female fruits, As they would caress the skies. Your eyes, they turned. Such strength they showed, As if they could burn A million miles of land. I touched a skin, One that isn’t totally yours. It’s owned by sin, That hides beyond your looking doors. I touched you But still, I didn’t reach you. So, I polished my hands In water and sand, I cut my fingernails And brought out my deepest male But still, I didn’t reach you. I touched you, But I didn’t reach you. You see, I’m powerful enough To scratch the Sun, And I swear my tender love Is as honest as no man, And my soul is as pure As Earth, a million years ago But still, I’m not strong enough To reach you. I touched you, But I did not reach you. With that grace in your face And the glory in your eyes, You picked my wrinkled hand And punished me for lies I had left, so long ago, In a place nobody knows And only you can reach. You reached me. I could burn my own eyes, I could turn and start to cry, I could even be myself But still, I would never reach you. I can touch you, But I’ll never reach you. Damon Durham Damon at 12:37 da tarde
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outras praias
where words come together as waves, blue and beautiful, dying in the whiteness, but repeating themselves like music notes, from sunrise to sunset to sunrise again. um livro: «Saudades de Nova Iorque», de Pedro Paixão. um filme: «Memento». um disco: «King of limbs», Radiohead. |