sábado, 7 de março de 2009

"that's us".

I know, babe...

There are no calls for the long-distance brokenhearts
24 pictures a second can't make them touch
A 4-hour conversation won't make them closer
Because there's nothing to be read when it all shuts down

And when the nights are long and dry
They'll always find a way to wet their spirits somehow
Either with a cold drink or a salty flavour
That heals most wounds for a second or two

If they close their eyes, sure it's dark
Sure it's half past heaven
Safe and together in this
Terminal loneliness they can't help

For they're long distance callers
Long-distance dreamers
Who will fail, as time will show
As most stories have told

Against all odds, or most of them
They'll jump a bridge, I'm sure they can
For they can't be farther
These long-distance rejects

They will touch, if there's a God
They'll kiss, if He's kind
But they'll die because He's not.

quinta-feira, 5 de março de 2009


The drunk and the sane
Have crossed paths once again
One cannot say there is sanity left
Now that they’ve left the glasses, empty

A soft hand slides
Perhaps too far
And there will be a price to pay
When tomorrow takes notice

Of today’s mistakes
There will be the smell
Of sweat and booze
And sore, syrupy lips

There is one quiet man
On another table, who sadly says:
I’m sorry, but there was never a way
To welcome any of you into my arms

Party’s over too soon
For those who never celebrate
The celibate cries of a terrible virginity
Still echo between the beats