Friday, February 29, 2008

Quando eu morrer

espalhem as minhas cinzas ao som disto:

Everyday Is Like Sunday



Trudging slowly over wet sand
Back to the bench where your clothes were stolen
This is the coastal town
That they forgot to close down
Armageddon - come armageddon!
Come, armageddon! come!

Everyday is like sunday
Everyday is silent and grey

Hide on the promenade
Etch a postcard :
How I dearly wish I was not here
In the seaside town
...that they forgot to bomb
Come, come, come - nuclear bomb

Everyday is like sunday
Everyday is silent and grey

Trudging back over pebbles and sand
And a strange dust lands on your hands
(and on your face...)
(on your face ...)
(on your face ...)
(on your face ...)

Everyday is like sunday
Win yourself a cheap tray
Share some greased tea with me
Everyday is silent and grey


Morrissey

3 comments:

menina-alice said...

Até lá esqueço-me dessa merda...

dolphin.s said...

fogo! é que já já não me dava jeito! :/

menina-alice said...

temos pena. a memória não é uma das minhas características mais marcantes. sou bem budistazinha: o que é fixe é o que está a acontecer.