ist es ein pures, strahlendes Glücksgefühl, genau die Musik zu finden, die so viel besser sagt, was man gerade fühlt. Und gleichzeitig Schmerz, manchmal. Aber es gibt Worte dafür; nicht eigene, aber es gibt sie. Und das ist Glück, schmerzhaft, machmal, aber Glück.
I waited by your bedside,
And didn't close my eyes all night.
I named you like a prayer.
It's anybody's guess how,
The angel of doubt came down,
And crept into your bed.
But after we danced to the shipping forecast,
The words escaped your mouth:
"I know it's gotta stop love, but I don't know how."
Now the stairs forget your shoes,
And the gate don't creak for want of you.
But the jury's out on me.
We're wise beyond our years,
But we're good at bad ideas, my love.
Or so it seems to be.
Shine a little light,
Don't wrestle with the night,
Don't think about the future now.
I know it's gotta stop love but I don't know how.
My little one,
My kettle drum,
I know I had a message at the start.
My babel tongue,
My come-undone,
I know I had a message at the start.
My prison kiss,
My dying wish,
I know I had a message at the start…
But it up and abandoned us, when we were sleeping in our beds.
It's anybody's guess how the angel of doubt laid down
Sand beneath our house.
I know it's gotta stop love, but I don't know how.
[
Dry the river |
New Ceremony]
lorilo am 19. März 2012, 23:58
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Pathetische Scheisse
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