Summer of Some Odd Year
The summer I met you I passed it a café somewhere near here
Didn´t think much about much, minor worries in mind
And a strange kind of feeling towards feelings and such
But love as much in the heart as these thoughts I could never understand
Of how a man can grow older to be something else he hasn´t been before
There were sunsets and motorcycles parking in
And the rumble of the small cars that our friends could afford
And the talks were a bore compared to the present days that I now live
But I´d give something and you would give something to go back
To that lack of understanding of all the things that would come on
The long, long wasted afternoons talking about us, raving about us, just bragging about our love
And how we met, and how we were free and so on and so on
So long to those days of caring and carelessness and restlessness and joy in mess
It´s a part of what we´ll always be and never be the same
Your trip to Prague went fine, you were back in no time and then
We rushed to meet and talk and enjoy our feeling of newly found old friends
That´s how we felt, it seemed we´d always been in each other´s lives
August gave rise to that first kiss on your front lawn
And that first song I showed you was me showing that I´m sad
Which is not bad if it can collect pieces of you like it did
And I partially hid my fear, my permanent fear of people leaving my life at some point
But that I´d be showing later letting you know about "Grace Cathedral Park"
That we heard in the dark of the trees we saw waving outside your door
It was more beauty than I could ever dream and there´d be more to come
The piano sound and the TV blaring soaps
But our hopes for something more would turn out to be too much
There´s no such thing it seems as eternal bliss
And we both miss all of the times that we cannot now replicate
And I hate that feeling of guilt I get when I feel good next to you
3 comentários:
já não falta ;)
Música para ouvir e para ler. Há talento, mas também muito trabalho. Só assim se consegue marcar a diferença. É o caso. *
Beijos
Vim cá parar por causa do fragmagens. Comprei o disco do Old J há mais de um mês e apenas o ouvi uma vez (soou-me mal, às vezes há dias assim, nada nos soa bem). E agora acompanhei o tema com a letra e, meu amigo, que coisa tão propícia para dizer palavrões de encanto. Vou já ouvir a Grace Cathedral Park dos Red House Painters.
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