|
(strange isn't it?) Dark as the bite There was an old man reading The Raven, He sounded like thunder, his eyes like rain, I guess I'll never meet anyone like him again... We looked like the sleepless nights We had spent, looking for the corner's end, Stuck in a wisdom nobody wanted to own. Yes we were dark as the bite, The vampire drank too much tonight, He might say a few words to the press, He might let them last. There was a railway that led to emptiness And the trees were trembling like naked bodies Stuck in a Russian lake, what a big mistake... An old lady sang the blues for us, She sounded mad, but nobody really noticed, We were all relatives in this wintry family. Yes we were dark as the bite, The vampire may have drunken too much, tonight, But he might say a few words to depress, He might make us feel worse... He is the father to all of us. Damon Durham. Damon at 6:43 da tarde
|
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. |