Um...Paro

Wednesday, May 31, 2006

"Sunrise, the sun sets.
You are hopeful and then you regret.
The circle never breaks.
With a sunrise and a sunset there’s a change of heart or address.
Is there nothing that remains?
For a sunrise or a sunset.
You’re manic or you’re depressed.
Will you ever feel ok?"

"For a sunrise or sunset.
You’re either coming or you just left but you’re always on the way.
Towards a sunrise or a sunset, a scribble or a sonnet.
They are really just the same.
To the sunrise and the sunset.
The master and his servant have exactly the same fate.
It’s a sunrise and a sunset.
From a cradle to a casket.
There’s no way to escape.
The sunrise and the sunset.
Hold your sadness like a puppet, keep putting on the play.
But everything you do is leading to the point
where you just won’t know what to do.
And at that moment you may laugh
but there is someone there who will be laughing louder than you.
So it’s true, the trick is complete.
become everything you said that you never would be.
You’re a fool! You’re a fool!
Sunrise, sunset.
Sunrise, sunset.
The sunrise and the sun sets.
Sunrise, sunset.
Sunrise, the sun sets.
Sunrise, the sun sets.
Sunrise, sunset.
Go home to your apartment
put the cassette in the tape deck and let that fever play.
Sunrise, sunset."
~Bright Eyes

posted at 5/31/2006 by Amparo |

Comments:

There is a middle-aged woman dragging her feet.
She carries baskets of clothes to a laundromat.
While the Mexican children kick rocks into the street and they laugh in a language I don’t understand.
But I love them. Why do I love them?
So the neighborhood is dimming as I smoke on the porch and watch the people as they pass enclosed inside their cars.
And on their faces just anger or disappointment.
I start wishing there was something I could offer them.
A consolation,
what could I offer them?
When they are sad in their suburbs robots water the lawn and everything they touch gets dusted spotless.
So they start to believe that they haven’t touched anything at all.
While the cars in the driveway only multiply.
They are lost in their
houses.
I have heard them sing in the shower and making speeches to their sister on the telephone.
Saying, You come home. Darling, you come here.
Don’t stay so far away from me.
This weather has me wanting love more tangible.
Something I can hold because it’s getting cold.
So lets hold up our fists to the flame in the sky to block out the light that is reaching for our eyes because it would blind us.
It will blind us.
Now I have locked my actions in the grooves of routine.
So I may never be free of this apathy.
But I wait for a letter that is coming to me.
She sends me pictures of the ocean in an envelope. So there still is hope.
Yes, I can be healed...

a song to pass the time
bright eyes

thank you for sharing your passions, your art, your good taste
viva la galaria!

# posted by jasonaeiou : 7/12/2006 12:50 AM