Not one of your favourite things

I had tender feelings that you made hard
But it's your heart, not mine, that's scarred
So when I go home I'll be happy to go
You're just somebody that I used to know
I watched you deal in a dying day
And throw a living past away
So you can be sure that you're in control
You're just somebody that I used to know
I know you don't think you did me wrong
And I can't stay this mad for long
Keeping ahold of what you just let go
You're just somebody that I used to know
-Elliott Smith

-

Are all eyes beautiful? Or just the ones you choose to see?

You make them see you in a certain light,

but one day, it all comes darkning down

and there will be no one else around.

Can you see with all the colours of the wind?

Or are your snake eyes colour blind?

Colour is emotion and your emotions

are nothing but architecture of the heart.

And one day not very far away,

the new house will come down.

It's already cracking. And it's your fear

that's doing the job. He too will see you

for who you are.

And you can't help it,

simply because you are not

one of your favourite things.

Às 3000 visitas deste blog, o meu obrigado, mesmo na evidência de ele estar cristalizado no tempo, como um fóssil. Um tempo demente, de crispação, mas também de profunda aprendizagem.