quinta-feira, 16 de abril de 2009

Simon and Garfunkel - Why Don´t You Write Me



Why don't you write me
I'm out in the jungle
I'm hungry to hear you.
Send me a card,
I am waiting so hard
To be near you.
(La, la, la)
Why don't you write?
Something is wrong
And I know I got to be there.
Maybe I'm lost,
But I can't make the cost
Of the airfare.
Tell me why
Why
Why
Tell me why
Why
Why

Why don't you write me,
A letter would brighten
My loneliest evening.
Mail it today
If it's only to say
That you're leaving me.
(La, la, la)

Monday morning, sitting in the sun
Hoping and wishing for the mail to come.
Tuesday, never got a word,
Wednesday, Thursday, ain't no sign,
Drank a half a bottle of iodine.
Friday, woe is me
Gonna hang my body from the highest tree.
Why don't you write me?

quarta-feira, 15 de abril de 2009

Simon and Garfunkel - Flowers Never Bend With the Rainfall



Through the corridors of sleep
Past the shadows dark and deep
My mind dances and leaps in confusion.
I don't know what is real,
I can't touch what I feel
And I hide behind the shield of my illusion.

So I'll continue to continue to pretend
My life will never end,
And flowers never bend
With the rainfall.

The mirror on my wall
Casts an image dark and small
But I'm not sure at all it's my reflection.
I am blinded by the light
Of God and truth and right
And I wander in the night without direction.

So I'll continue to continue to pretend
My life will never end,
And flowers never bend
With the rainfall.

It's no matter if you're born
To play the King or pawn
For the line is thinly drawn 'tween joy and sorrow,
So my fantasy
Becomes reality,
And I must be what I must be and face tomorrow.

So I'll continue to continue to pretend
My life will never end,
And flowers never bend
With the rainfall.

terça-feira, 14 de abril de 2009

Simon and Garfunkel - Old Friends



Old friends, old friends,
Sat on their parkbench like bookends
A newspaper blown through the grass
Falls on the round toes
of the high shoes of the old friends

Old friends, winter companions, the old men
Lost in their overcoats, waiting for the sunset
The sounds of the city sifting through trees
Settle like dust on the shoulders of the old friends

Can you imagine us years from today,
Sharing a parkbench quietly
How terribly strange to be seventy

Old friends, memory brushes the same years,
Silently sharing the same fears
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