e dói, viu? dói a jamais, meio sempre, como escada que só desce e sublima o que há na gente.

She´s not there – The Zombies

Well, no one told me about her
The way she lied
Well, no one told me about her
How many people cried

But it's too late to say you're sorry
How would I know, why should I care
Please don't bother tryin' to find her
She's not there

Well, let me tell you about the way she looked
The way she acted and the color of her hair
Her voice was soft and cool, her eyes were clear and bright
But she's not there

Well, no one told me about her
What could I do
Well no one told me about her
Though they all knew

But it's too late to say you're sorry
How would I know, why should I care
Please don't bother tryin' to find her
She's not there

Well, let me tell you about the way she looked
The way she acted and the color of her hair
Her voice was soft and cool, her eyes were clear and bright
But she's not there

But it's too late to say you're sorry
How would I know, why should I care
Please don't bother tryin' to find her
She's not there

Well, let me tell you about the way she looked
The way she acted and the color of her hair
Her voice was soft and cool, her eyes were clear and bright
But she's not there

(Rod Argent)

só me sobrou o lado esquerdo
esse lado que grita,
que chora,
em pouca coisa acredita,
sempre o primeiro a ir embora.

mas, o que tem de fuga e não-estar na questão de cantar
o lado esquerdo?
sem o passo popular ou
o ponto-e-vírgula acadêmico,
é o que me resta,
sangue crasso e vida infame,
o olho fixo no mar,
essa palavra com derrame.

saúdo o sol e, com bom grado,
sua coroa,
mas a luz de nada vale ao cego,
assim como o vácuo vaza, tesoura,
o canto que o poeta entoa.

só me sobrou o lado esquerdo,
o lado que grita,
não se engana,
que para diante da vida
e pergunta:
para que tanta tripa, para que tanta gana?





ESTA OBRA ESTÁ LICENCIADA SOB UMA LICENÇA CREATIVE COMMONS.

Memória: pin-ups

Era um mundo inocente... Sem Savannas Samsons ou Jennas Jamesons...


Visite: http://www.inlove.com.br/pinups/

...morrer na praia e no beijo da areia aceitar a carícia da onda.
no espaço estalo do mar o compasso,
sinto seu sal e sou todo coisa: marola...