23 maio 2008

i hope that our few remaining friends
give up on trying to save us
i hope we come up with a failsafe plot
to piss of the dumb few that forgave us
i hope the fences we mended
fall down beneath their own weight
and i hope we hang on past the last exit
i hope it's already too late
and i hope the junkyard a few blocks from here
someday burns down
and i hope the rising black smoke carries me far away
and i never come back to this town again
in my life
i hope i lie
and tell everyone you were a good wife
and i hope you die
i hope we both die
i hope i cut myself shaving tommorow
i hope it bleeds all day long
our friends say it's darkest befor the sun rises
we're pretty sure they're all wrong
i hope it stays dark forever
i hope the worst is'nt over
i hope you blink before i do
and i hope i never get sober
and i hope when you think of me years down the line
you can't find one good thing to say
and i hope that if i found the strength to walk out
you'd stay the hell out of my way
i am drowning
there is no sign of land
your are coming down with me
hand in unloveable hand
and i hope you die
i hope we both die

mountain goats, 'no children'


Blogger palanese said...

"...I don't want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness. I want sin."
"In fact," said Mustapha Mond, "you're claiming the right to be unhappy."
"All right then," said the Savage defiantly, "I'm claiming the right to be unhappy."
"Not to mention the right to grow old and ugly and impotent; the right to have syphilis and cancer; the right to have too little to eat; the right to be lousy; the right to live in constant apprehension of what may happen to-morrow; the right to catch typhoid; the right to be tortured by unspeakable pains of every kind." There was a long silence.
"I claim them all," said the Savage at last.

in Aldous Huxley's Brave New World

sexta-feira, maio 23, 2008 7:51:00 da tarde  

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