Declaración de intenciones

Este blog intenta tener cubiertos al menos dos sentidos del hipotético visitante: la vista y el oído. La vista resulta evidente y el oído se consigue haciendo clic en el título de cada entrada.
Espero que lo disfrutéis.

miércoles, 21 de febrero de 2007

Space-dye vest


Falling through pages of Martens on angels
Feeling my heart pull west
I saw the future dressed as a stranger
Love in a space-dye vest

Love is an act of blood and I'm bleeding
A pool in the shape of a heart
Beauty projection in the reflection
Always the worst way to start

But he's the sort who can't know anyone intimately, least of all a woman.
He doesn't know what a woman is.
He wants you for a possession, something to look at like a painting or an ivory box.
Something to own and to display.
He doesn't want you to be real, or to think or to live.
He doesn't love you, but I love you.
I want you to have your own thoughts and ideas and feelings,
even when I hold you in my arms. It's our last chance... it's our last chance...

Now that you're gone I'm trying to take it
Learning to swallow the rage
Found a new girl I think we can make it
As long as she stays on the page

This is not how I want it to end
And I'll never be open again...

I was gonna move out...ummm...get, get a job, get my own place, ummm,
But... I go into the mall where I Want to work and they tell me, I'm, I was too young...
Some people, gave advice before, about facing the facts, about facing reality.
And this is, this without a doubt, is his biggest challenge ever. He's going to have to face it.
You're gonna have to try, he's gonna to have to try and, uh, and, and, and get some help here.
I mean no one can say they know how he feels.
That, so they say that, in ya know like, Houston or something, you'd say it's a hundred and eighty degrees, but it's a dry heat. In Houston they say that? Oh, maybe not. I'm all mixed up. Dry until they hit the swimming pool.... I get up with the sun... listen.
You have your own room to sleep in, I don't care what you do. I don't care when. That door gets locked, that door gets locked at night by nine o'clock. If you're not in this house by nine o'clock, then you'd better find some place to sleep, because you're not going to be a bum in this house. Supper is ready...

There's no one to take my blame
If they wanted to
There's nothing to keep me sane
And it's all the same to you
There's nowhere to set my aim
So I'm everywhere
Never come near me again
Do you really think I need you
I'll never be open again,
I could never be open again.
I'll never be open again,
I could never be open again.

And I'll smile and I'll learn to pretend
And I'll never be open again
And I'll have no more dreams to defend
And I'll never be open again

© Dream Theater

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