segunda-feira, março 09, 2009

"The irony just knocks me out"

The Wound

I've done everything that can be done to heal this wound
Left it on it's own for years
Couldn't touch it, didn't pick it, didn't get it wet
It didn't stop the bleeding

I bandaged it, I wrapped it, stitched it, tourniqueted it
I held it stiff and aching in the air
Held it there til I went beserk
Didn't sleep
It didn't work
Didn't stop it weeping

And the wound is your life
And your life took on a life of it's own
(Or so you foolishly thought)
And your life rolled on over me Bang-Bang like 56 train wheels
Every time I heard news of you

And the wound was in every lousy song on the radio

And the pain was like a tree-fern in the dark, damp, forgotten places
Darkness didn't stop her growing
New-born baby cells dividing..
Curled up tight unrolling day by day
Stretching up, stretching out
Forming the same identical shape
Clones. There aint too much sadder than
Clones - relentlessly emerging from the hairy heart of the wound

And the fern is beautiful in it's own way
Uncurling in the dark
Beautiful with no one there to see it
As the wound weeps and aches


2 passageiros clandestinos:

Anonymous Deusa chamou a hospedeira e disse:

Nota de tradução: "tree-fern" = Feto (planta).

11:23 AM  
Blogger Henrique Mário Soares chamou a hospedeira e disse:

Grande banda, magnificas musicas, vou colcar no meu blog uma das que mais gosto. Obrigado pelo teu comentário sobre a águia imperial, patricio tu tás á vontade, tens livre transito na escrita e na opinião pois és da casa. Tudo de bom e um forte abraço do norte. ólha a francesinha acompanhada por um "fino"... Bom proveito...

10:07 PM  

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