Sonhei com você. Encontrava-a em um lugar estranho, daqueles que não era para você estar lá. Mas te encontro, fico feliz e te dou um beijo estranho, seguido de um beijo menos estranho, como se para corrigir a estranheza do primeiro. Você continua bonita. Bonita e doce.
Conversa vai e vem. Você está noiva. Nada de surpreendente. Você está grávida da três meses. Muito de surpreendente. Noiva e grávida de três meses. Seria o meu subconsciente me dizendo para desistir de você? Ah é, eu não acredito nessas coisas. Obviamente, apenas horas depois me lembro que você não é do tipo que fica grávida para noivar, otherwise...
Colocaria tudo isso em versos se tivesse o talento. Os versos são mais apropriados para tais ocasiões oníricas.
Antigamente, ao invés das poucas Aves-Marias e dos poucos Pais-Nossos, os padres, como penitência, mandavam os fiéis carregarem pedras pelas vilas medievais. Os tempos mudam. Mas continuamos carregando pedras presas aos nossos tornozelos.
Enfim acordo, disposto a colocar uma pedra nesse assunto. Não faço nada, simples covardia. I never said that I was brave...
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I went out walking
Through streets paved with gold,
Lifted some stones of the skin and bones
Of a city without a soul.
I went out walking
Under an atomic sky,
Where the ground won’t turn and the rain it burns
Like the tears when I said goodbye.
Yeah, I went with nothing
Nothing but the thought of you
I went wandering.
I went drifting
Through the capitals of tin,
Where men can’t walk or freely talk
And sons turn their fathers in.
I stopped outside a church house
Where the citizens lack to sit,
They say they want the kingdom
But they don’t want God in it.
I went out riding
Down that old eight lane,
I passed by a thousand signs
Looking for my own name.
I went with nothing,
But the thought you’d be there too
Looking for you.
I wet out there
In search of experience
To taste and touch and to view as much
As a man can before he redempts.
I went out searching
Looking for one good man
A spirit who would not bend or break
Who would sit at his fathers right hand.
I went walking
With a bible and a gun
The word of God laid heavy on my heart
I was sure I was the one.
Now Jesus, don’t you wait up
Jesus I’ll be coming home soon
I went out for the papers
Told her I’d be back by noon.
Yeah, I left with nothing
But the thought you’d be there too
Looking for you.
Yeah, I left with nothing
Nothing but the thought of you
I went wandering.
(U2 & Johnny Cash)
Through streets paved with gold,
Lifted some stones of the skin and bones
Of a city without a soul.
I went out walking
Under an atomic sky,
Where the ground won’t turn and the rain it burns
Like the tears when I said goodbye.
Yeah, I went with nothing
Nothing but the thought of you
I went wandering.
I went drifting
Through the capitals of tin,
Where men can’t walk or freely talk
And sons turn their fathers in.
I stopped outside a church house
Where the citizens lack to sit,
They say they want the kingdom
But they don’t want God in it.
I went out riding
Down that old eight lane,
I passed by a thousand signs
Looking for my own name.
I went with nothing,
But the thought you’d be there too
Looking for you.
I wet out there
In search of experience
To taste and touch and to view as much
As a man can before he redempts.
I went out searching
Looking for one good man
A spirit who would not bend or break
Who would sit at his fathers right hand.
I went walking
With a bible and a gun
The word of God laid heavy on my heart
I was sure I was the one.
Now Jesus, don’t you wait up
Jesus I’ll be coming home soon
I went out for the papers
Told her I’d be back by noon.
Yeah, I left with nothing
But the thought you’d be there too
Looking for you.
Yeah, I left with nothing
Nothing but the thought of you
I went wandering.
(U2 & Johnny Cash)
Meus Links
Links
- aint talking
- Apostos
- Aurora Borealis
- Becker - Posner Blog
- Blog do Reinaldo Azevedo
- Cereja Ninja
- Dancing With Myself
- Feliz Nova Dieta
- Freakonomics Blog
- Load Failed
- Marrom
- Mises Economics Blog
- MONSTERING
- Pai Al Knows Best
- Períneo
- puragoiaba
- r e p e t e n t e
- Roger's Rules
- Spaceyship.com
- There's no real truce in my fury
- Those are my principles, and if you don't like them... well, I have others. - Bruno Litio
- Voz do Deserto
- Was ist los?
- Wunderblogs
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