Escritos na varanda

Imagino-me a escrever na varanda, ao fim da tarde, com o Sol a por-se no horizonte e uma bebida gelada ao lado. Como eu nem sequer tenho varanda, tudo isto é ilusão.

quarta-feira, 22 de janeiro de 2014

By the river


Once upon a time
On a winter night
We were by the river
Walking hand in hand

Your deepest fears arose
And I gave you shelter
You look to me like a rose
But I forgot about the thorns

And the wind is blowing
Oh, with all his power
And the wind is blowing
Fifthy miles per hour

And the wind is blowing
And I hold you near
But I never thought
You were not sincere


(Quando estiver acabado vai sair daqui uma bela canção, eh eh eh)