Right Where It Belongs

See the animal in it's cage that you built
Are you sure what side you're on?
Better not look him too closely in the eye
Are you sure what side of the glass you are on?
See the safety of the life you have built
Everything where it belongs
Feel the hollowness inside of your heart
And it's all
Right where it belongs

What if everything around you
Isn't quite as it seems?
What if all the world you think you know
Is an elaborate dream?
And if you look at your reflection
Is it all you wanted to be?
What if you could look right through the cracks?
Would you find yourself
Find yourself afraid to see?

What if all the world's inside of your head
Just creations of your own?
Your devils and your gods
All the living and the dead
And you really are alone
You can live in this illusion
You can choose to believe
You keep looking but you can't find the woods
While you're hiding in the trees

Tell it like it is

The Hand That Feeds

You're keeping in step
In the line
Got your chin held high and you feel just fine
Because you do
What you're told
But inside your heart it is black and it's hollow and it's cold

Just how deep do you believe?
Will you bite the hand that feeds?
Will you chew until it bleeds?
Can you get up off your knees?
Are you brave enough to see?
Do you want to change it?

What if this whole crusade's
A charade
And behind it all there's a price to be paid
For the blood
On which we dine
Justified in the name of the holy and the divine

Just how deep do you believe?
Will you bite the hand that feeds?
Will you chew until it bleeds?
Can you get up off your knees?
Are you brave enough to see?
Do you want to change it?

So naive
I keep holding on to what I want to believe
I can see
But I keep holding on and on and on and on

Will you bite the hand that feeds you?
Will you stay down on your knees?



Pergunta sem resposta...

R.I.P.

Gumes

"Assomados, com o andar titubeante das vítimas da realidade
absoluta, desfalecemos em convulsões de electrochoque, no
turbilhão da engrenagem triturante, que nos transportou em
sucessivas oscilações sísmicas, para o apaziguamento da
indiferença e o amargo isolamento da solidão. Nada é o que era,
nada foi o que sonhamos, apenas visões esfumadas ao contacto
da memória, apenas imprecisas impressões de um tempo gasto
pela usura. Tivemos o mundo, fomos o mundo...

Salve, cadáveres brancos da inocência!
Salve, corpos belos do amor!
Salve, feiticeiros da embriaguez permanente!
Salve, magos da existência não fragmentária!
Salve, pederastas do desejo, junkies do caos, prisioneiros da liberdade!
Salve, irreprimível lúdico!
Salve, criadores de vida, amantes da infância, viciados do presente!
Salve, orfãos perdidos!
Salve! Salve! Salve"

Mão Morta - "Nús"

6 Março

Bela capa...

Lacrimosa

We keep on burying our dead
We keep on planting their bones in the ground
But they won't grow, the sun doesn't help
The rain doesn't help

If my garden would have a fence
then the rabbits couldn't just come in
and sit on the grass and eat all the flowers
and shit

Hi, I'm Icarus
I'm falling down
man for judgement must prepare me
spare oh god and mercy
spare

man I have a terrible feeling
that somethings gone awful wrong with the world
is it something we made
is it something we ate
is it something we drank

Hi I'm Icarus
I'm falling
from the dust of earth
returning back for judgement
we must prepare
spare oh god and mercy
spare me

Lacrimosa
Lacrimosa

They keep on burying our dead
They keep on planting their bones in the ground
But they won't grow
The sun doesn't help
And all we've got isn't a giant crop of names
and dates

Hi I'm Icarus, I'm falling down
on this day of tears and mourning
from the dust of earth returning
man for judgement must
spare me, spare oh god and mercy
spare me

Lacrimosa
Lacrimosa


Regina Spektor-"Lacrimosa"

Man

Indomável

Mais

A most peculiar man

He was a most peculiar man.
That’s what mrs. riordan said and she should know;
She lived upstairs from him
She said he was a most peculiar man.

He was a most peculiar man.
He lived all alone within a house,
Within a room, within himself,
A most peculiar man.

He had no friends, he seldom spoke
And no one in turn ever spoke to him,
’cause he wasn’t friendly and he didn’t care
And he wasn’t like them.
Oh, no! he was a most peculiar man.

He died last saturday.
He turned on the gas and he went to sleep
With the windows closed so he’d never wake up
To his silent world and his tiny room;
And mrs. riordan says he has a brother somewhere
Who should be notified soon.
And all the people said, what a shame that he’s dead,
But wasn’t he a most peculiar man?


Paul Simon - 1965

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