domingo, 19 de abril de 2009

The season has arrived


Fact:
volver a casa solo después de un concierto debe de ser lo más parecido que existe a encerrarse en una habitación oscura al día siguiente de un exceso de MDMA.
Fact: el Typex tapa, pero no borra.
Fact: demostrado, Pavese no ayuda a dormir.


Belle & Sebastian - I'm Waking Up to Us

I need someone to take some joy in something I do;

you need a man who's either rich or losing a screw.

You know I love you, here's the irony.
You're going to walk away intact.
I think you never liked me, anyway,
you like yourself and you like men to kiss your arse
expensive clothes...
please stop me there.

I think I'm waking up to us: we're a disaster.
You dont want to know me
'cause you move in circles of the brave
where art defines their lives.

She was the one love of my life and I let her go.
And if I look like death today,
then please let her know
I never wanted to do harm to her.
I only wanted her to see the beauty of the world surrounding her.
But when she opened up her eyes it's much too late,
our chance has gone:
she's with a guy who takes the prize
for everything I ever showed her,
digging all the fun because she's older.
I fed her with a spoon,
I made her mother smile:
I helped the kid survive.

She was the one love of my life,
she showed me the road.
I loved her dog, her steady gaze, the chapter is closed,
the chapter is closed,
the chapter is closed.

I always wanted all the best for her,
the best thing was to stay away.
She grew up and she left the rest of us
and now the understanding's gone.

I haven't changed,

how could I?
I'm pretty much the same person.
I cannot keep the anger hidden anymore,
but lucky for you, you are not around.
My anger turns to pity and to love:
the season has arrived,
the season has arrived.


2 comentarios:

ángeles figuereo dijo...

"Uno no se mata por el amor de una mujer. Uno se mata porque un amor, cualquier amor, nos revela nuestra desnudez, nuestra miseria, nuestro desamparo, la nada."

C. Pavese.

el tapir nicanor dijo...

ay, sí
la soledad del postconcierto
el camuflaje del typex
y la negritud de pavese
el trío calavera