domingo, 26 de março de 2017

metamorfose necessária


sete palavras. sete anos. sete longos anos. sete pequenos acontecimentos. sete nadas. mais sete quase  tudo. um ciclo que me fazem crer necessário à renovação da pele. ao crescimento e ao momento, àquele momento em que no centro do ponto mais central e exposto da cidade se dá o renascimento recalcado na pureza e espontaneidade dos gestos e da dor da metamorfose necessária.




Seven Words 
These seven words I say to you, one by one
I love you and you have to know
If I could change how I'm insane
If I could learn to leave my troubles behind
It's starting to hurt and I know you moved on
Telling everyone how I done you so wrong
Cat scratch a beast
My words that made you bleed
Now I face tomorrow
Now I face tomorrow
In time we'll both be free from this ball and chain
Hanging on to things
I want you mostly in the morning
When my soul is weak from dreaming
When the dust has cleared
And you forget that I'm here
Hanging on
I've been hanging
Who had the last word
I'm telling you first
Who had the last word
I'm telling you first
These seven words are no longer mine
Who am I but a stranger who took you down
It's starting to burn and I wanna go home
Only home I've known
Lost in the storm
It had to be seven words to set us free
Now I face tomorrow
Now I face tomorrow
Now I face tomorrow

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