"I see the lights are turning and I look outside
The stars are burning through this changing time
It could have been anything we want
It's fine, salvation was just a passing thought
It was just a passing thought

Don't wait, act now
This amazing offer won't last long
It's only a chance to pave the path we're on
I know there are more exciting things to talk about
And in time we'll sort it out
And in time we'll sort it out

And though they say it's possible
To me, I don't see how it's probable
I see the course we're on spinning farther from what I know
I'll hold on
Tell me that you won't let go
Tell me that you won't let go

And the truth is such a funny thing
With all these people
Keep on telling me
They know what's best
And what to be frightened of
And all the rest are wrong
They know nothing about us
They know nothing about us


And though they say it's possible
To me, I don't see how it's probable
I see the course we're on spinning farther from what I know
I'll hold on
Tell me that you won't let go
Tell me that you won't let go

I'm not alright

And though they say it's possible
To me, I don't see how it's probable
I see the course we're on spinning farther from what I know
I'll hold on
Tell me that you won't let go

And though they say it's possible
To me, I don't see how it's probable
I see the course we're on spinning farther from what I know
I'll hold on
Tell me that you won't let go
Tell me that you won't let go

This could be something beautiful
Combine our love into something wonderful
But times are tough I know
And the pull of what we can't give up takes hold"

Sou. Já fui triste. sonhador, já fui credor, criador, realista, ou até mesmo pintor, da minha própria arte. mas mesmo assim, muitas das vezes, fui. fogo de vista. de mim mesmo, sabem que o mais dificil de ser nao é o que queremos, mas sim o que esperamos de nós, nos outros, e os vemos assim, atroz. Nao é uma despedida, nunca foi. Mas assim que nos encontrámos, abriram-se dois remoinhos, daqueles sem luz, engolindo-nos. para bem longe. Onde o tempo é feito muito mais de tiques do que taques, e o espaco é inconfudivel pela falta de lugares, nos parques. Da cidade, onde vivo, veem de tempos a tempos memórias de vidas passadas, nunca acabadas, ficadas por se fazer, hoje mesmo. de encontros, um bilhete, uma mesa de café. um tocar de maos, no vazio. que nos deixaria sem ar, num semblante de fé. Num qualquer deus.

Mas hoje sou, mais do que tudo, sou. E no meio de tanta confusao, nenhum de nós se torna fácil de entender. E se nao falassemos assim, tanto, por querer-dizeres, nunca nos explicariamos. por completo. Como se -algo- fosse possível.

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