take care

Personalidad de Escorpio: Sensibles, empáticos, curiosos, impetuosos, rencorosos, salvajes, arriesgados. Suelen ser ambiciosos y competitivos, pero lo ocultan bien. Les gusta decir lo que piensan, no tienen secretos. Son sociables, les gusta el misterio, lo religioso y lo prohibido. Suelen tener amores apasionados e intensos, seductores, fogozos, inagotables; no les gustan los compromisos, pero si tienen uno son celosos y a veces violentos.

When he saw her getting off the bus
It seemed to wipe away the years
Her face was older, just a little rough
But her eyes were still so clear
He drank his coffee and he hurried out
Across before she walked away
Then he approached her like a little child
Too scared for what he had to say
"Hello Louise,
Remember me?
Now should we part
Or stay awhile?
As if we were still lovers"

She took a moment just to recognise
the man she'd known so well before
And as he started to apologise
Lose any bitterness she bore
She gently put her finger on his lips
To let him know she understood
And with her suitcase standing on the floor
Embraced him like a lover would
He told louise
"You look so good
It's just you see
You make me feel
As if we were still lovers"

It's not always true that time heals all wounds
There are wounds that you don't wanna heal
The memories of something really good
Something truly real,
that you never found again
As if we were still lovers
And though they talked just for just a little time
Before she said she had to go
He saw the meeting as a tiny sign
That told him all he had to know
And so Louise
Waved from the bus
And as she left
She gave that smile
As if they were still lovers
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Foals in winter coats, white girls of the North. File past on, five and one. The are the fabled lambs, a Sunday ham, the EHS norm. And they can float above the grass, in circles if they tried. A latent power I know they hide, to keep some hope alive, that a girl like I could ever try. So we just skirt the hallway signs, a phantom and a fly. Follow the lines and wonder why, there's no connection. A week of rolling eyes, and cheap shots from the tribe. And we're often in Marcus' porch again, another afternoon with the gold head tunes. And pilfered booze. We wandered through your mama's house, and the milk from the window lights. Family portrait circa ninety-five, this is that foreign land, with the sprayed on tans. And it all feels fine, be it silk or slime. So, when they tap out Monday heads, to zombie-walk in our stead. This town seems hardly worth our time. And we'll no longer memorize or rhyme, too far along in our climb. Stepping over what now towers to the sky, with no connection.

fantasía o realidad

Estoy buscando en vano una sola explicación, que de una vez por todas justifique tanta incomprensión. Si la vida nos importa, y si no somos tan idiotas ¿Por qué nos dedicamos a cubrir el mundo de dolor? Y es cierto lo que dicen sobre engaño y corrupción. O que un montón de niños se alimentan solo con arroz. Y cuando miras al de al lado, y lo ves tan necesitado, que regalo tan preciado la fortuna nos ha dado.
Buscan soluciones, con el racismo hay que acabar. Y no saben todavía por donde van a empezar. ¿Y si todos los individuos fueramos de un color distinto? Seguro seguiría habiendo problemas de igualdad racial. Alguien dijo un dia una indudable verdad: olvidamos las pequeñas alegrías por lograr la gran felicidad. Son detalles de la vida, que dan otro punto de vista. Quizas sea demasiado tarde cuando los quieras valorar.
Para qué medir el tiempo, si lo nuestro es esperar. Para qué sentirnos ciertos, si la vida nos da igual. O para qué creernos todo lo que vemos si al final, no sabemos ni siquiera si es fantasía o realidad.