Quarta-feira, 28 de Novembro de 2007
A Morte Saiu à Rua
A morte saiu à rua num dia assim
Naquele lugar sem nome para qualquer fim
Uma gota rubra sobre a calçada cai
E um rio de sangue de um peito aberto sai
O vento que dá nas canas do canavial
E a foice duma ceifeira de Portugal
E o som da bigorna como um clarim do céu
Vão dizendo em toda a parte o Pintor morreu
Teu sangue, Pintor, reclama outra morte igual
Só olho por olho e dente por dente vale
À lei assassina, à morte que te matou
Teu corpo pertence à terra que te abraçou
Aqui te afirmamos dente por dente assim
Que um dia rirá melhor quem rirá por fim
Na curva da estrada à covas feitas no chão
E em todas florirão rosas de uma nação
Zeca Afonso
M.M.
Sexta-feira, 16 de Novembro de 2007
oh sefaxavor...
um pouco mais de vida para mim... sim!
nao... não faz mal que não traga copo... eu bebo mesmo pela garrafa!
M.M.
Terça-feira, 15 de Maio de 2007
Se se pudesse escolher,,, eu queria morrer depressa.
Não o depressa de brevemente, mas o depressa que faz com que seja de curta duração!
Dever-se-ia morrer de um momento para o outro! Como se tivéssemos um prazo de validade! Assim, chegando aquele dia e aquela hora já se sabia... expirávamos !
Expirávamos tão rápido, como a expulsão do ar dos nossos pulmões!
fffffffffffffffffuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu !!!
e já estava!
Sem dor, sem drama!
Sem o cheiro acre de urina que incensa as enfermarias dos hospitais! Sem o cheiro a quente, a mofo, a gordura humana de quem sua debaixo dos olhares despreocupados de quem lá trabalha...
M.M.
Sexta-feira, 11 de Maio de 2007
Sexta-feira à noite
Os homens acariciam o clitóris das esposas
Com dedos molhados de saliva.
O mesmo gesto com que todos os dias
Contam dinheiro, papéis, documentos
E folheiam nas revistas
A vida dos seus ídolos.
Sexta-feira à noite
Os homens penetram suas esposas
Com tédio e pénis.
O mesmo tédio com que todos os dias
Enfiam o carro na garagem
O dedo no nariz
E metem a mão no bolso
Para coçar o saco.
Sexta-feira à noite
Os homens ressonam de borco
Enquanto as mulheres no escuro
Encaram seu destino
E sonham com o príncipe encantado.
Mariana Colasanti
M.M.
The handshake
Seals the contract
From the contract
Theres no turning back
The turning point
Of a career
In korea, being insincere
The holiday
Was fun packed
The contract
Still intact
The grabbing hands
Grab all they can
All for themselves
After all
Its a competitive world
Everything counts in large amounts
The graph
On the wall
Tells the story
Of it all
Picture it now
See just how
The lies and deceit
Gained a little more power
Confidence
Taken in
By a sun tan
And a grin
The grabbing hands
Grab all they can
All for themselves
After all
Its a competitive world
Everything counts in large amounts
The grabbing hands
Grab all they can
Everything counts in large amounts
depeche mode
M.M.
Quinta-feira, 19 de Abril de 2007
Oh show me the way to the next whisky bar
oh don't ask why, oh don't ask why
For we must find the next whisky bar
or if we don't find the next whisky bar
I tell you we must die
I tell you we must die
I tell you
I tell you
I tell you we must die
Oh moon of Alabama it's time to say good bye
We've lost our good old mama
And must have whisky or you know why
Oh moon of Alabama it's time to say good bye
We've lost our good old mama
And must have whisky or you know why
Oh show me the way to the next little dollar
oh don't ask why, oh don't ask why
For we must find the next little dollar
or if we don't find the next little dollar
I tell you we must die
I tell you we must die
I tell you
I tell you
I tell you we must die
Oh moon of Alabama it's time to say good bye
We've lost our good old mama
And must have little dollar or you know why
Oh moon of Alabama it's time to say good bye
We've lost our good old mama
And must have little dollar or you know why
Oh show me the way to the next little girl
oh don't ask why, oh don't ask why
For we must find the next little girl
or if we don't find the next little girl
I tell you we must die
I tell you we must die
I tell you
I tell you
I tell you we must die
Oh moon of Alabama it's time to say good bye
We've lost our good old mama
And must have little girl or you know why
Oh moon of Alabama it's time to say auf wiedersehen
We've lost our good old mama
And must have little girl or you know why
you know why
the cat with diferent eyes- David Bowie
M.M.
Looking like a born again
Living like a heretic
Listening to arthur lee records
Making all your friends feel so guilty
About their cynicism
And the rest of their generation
Not even the government are gonna stop you now
But are you ready to be heartbroken?
Are you ready to be heartbroken?
Pumped up full of vitamins
On account of all the seriousness
You say youre so happy now
You can hardly stand
Lean over on the bookcase
If you really want to get straight
Read norman mailer
Or get a new tailor
Are you ready to be heartbroken?
Are you ready to be heartbroken?
Are you ready to bleed?
What would it take
What would it take to wipe that smile off of your face?
Are you ready to be, are you ready to bleed?
Are you ready to be heartbroken?
Are you ready to bleed? (heartbroken)
Well you better get ready now baby
Are you ready to bleed? , ready to bleed?
Lloyd Cole
M.M.