Burn-it-down!

Ainda quente dos fragmentos de vontade que se passeavam nos seus neurónios meio-desertos, Miguel teve a coragem de levar o seu i.pod ao ouvido. Sabia que a dor iria percorrer todos os seu pedaços. Mas a vida é assim: um enorme cheque em branco que alguém vai preenchendo como realmente lhe apetece.

We'll rise above this

We'll cry about this

As we live and learn

A broken promise

I was not honest

Now I watch as tables turn

And you're singing

I'll wait my turn

To tear inside you

Watch you burn

I'll wait my turn

I'll wait my turn

I'll cry about this

And hide my cuckold eyes

As you come off all concerned

And I'll find no solace

In your poor apology

In your regret that sounds absurd

Keep singing

I'll wait my turn

To tear inside you

Watch you burn

And I'll wait my turn

To terrorize you

Watch you burn

I'll wait my turn

I'll wait my turn
A Promise is a promise

A Promise is a promise

A Promise is a promise

A Promise is a promise

And I'll wait my turn

To tear inside yo
u
Watch you burn

I'll wait my turn

I'll wait my turn
A broken promise

You were not honest

I'll bide my time

I'll wait my turn

E assim ficou em loop, o resto da tarde. O semáforo, o mesmo de sempre, apenas se deixou ficar encarnado.

(nota: pela primeira vez na história deste blog existe uma transcrição de um texto, neste caso um poema - Broken Promise - de Brian Molko, Placebo. Thanks Brian)