sábado, 31 de diciembre de 2011

The Complete Lyrics

November is lingering like the white smoke
Of a dirty truck
In the wet
City night

Days go by unnoticed
Hiding under blankets at night

Winter is coming

Christmas are coming
The end of the world too

And I recall I’ve been by your side for so long now…
While all the faces
And the cities
And the nights
They all blurred up

And I know
I know
I lost her
I lost all of them
Running away
Diving for more
Getting away
Going back to you


I watch you while you get dressed through the half open door
Of your room
Through the mirror
While I wash my face
With this aching freezing water

I look at your round and tender ass
Your black pants
And the window is cold already
And I realized that the world is just another fifty something white fat guy
In a white SUV with his finger in his nose
And the other hand checking out his blackberry

And we know it

But we hold ourselves anyway
Does not matter if the phone rings
If the numbers go fast in the computer
If that damn thing works or not

And the interstate
Is empty at this long hours of the night

Filled with burned out memories in calcined forests

Riding in this blackness

Through it

Just the engine on
And the headlights

And all the rabbits heads
In the bushes
With electrical pulses shining in the deep mighty well

And that tiny trembling in my right feet
And in my ears

a cherry pie

Finally leaving
Waiting for buses
Or taxis
Or plastic flowers in the village cemetery

People that buy plastic watches
And Nobel prizes that walk with their hands in their coat pockets
And war photos

And a huge sun on a nail hard Saturday of
Anxiety and beer
And me carrying you in my arms
3:00 am
Under the light rain
To your cold water home
To your warm clean sheets
Where each time you cross a door
You gotta close it down
Because all the kids are running up and down the streets
And all the phone companies are out there
with them knives out in their hands
and you know you’d better hurry boy

a Sunday
to tell you how much I like stealing old photo books from second hand bookstores
inside my Brooklyn polish grey coat

all those NY raindrops inside
and the East river
lost in the long long
never ending
train stations at night
Like pieces of silver getting rotten in the streets

And no real place to go back to