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Staring at the sea All these melancholic losers Staring at the sea With eyes glued to the water, They kind of look like me. Their lives have been broken By people of the opposite sex. They had never spoken Of what would happen next. They stare at an ocean, They stare at a mirror, probably, Looking for imaginary reasons For being so desperate and unhappy. They stare at the empty seat Which begs for a butt, next to them. They neither drink nor eat, They just live as they can, and say: «Why do people complain That we never smile? When they should take the blame For treating us so fine And then, leaving us behind With but an ocean to stare at. At least, it’s better than to stay home, Eating pizza and getting fat.» They stare at the sea, Waiting for a ship that never comes. Then, they pick-up a pen And find out they’re the ones Who will probably write a novel Or the lyrics for a song, But they’ll never be happy As they will be almost alone, With the sea to stare at, With its foggy coat, so white, With a tear wrinkling their skins And another sad thought to write. Damon Durham Damon at 12:39 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. |