Labirintos do passado

Recordações são difíceis,

principalmente as mais bonitas.

A saudade é utopia,

o desejo é regressar.

O olhar só se vira para trás

quando à frente há só parede.

Difícil é virar,

sem ter necessidade de chorar.

A mudança quer ser total

mas a originalidade tem inimiga.

A lembrança(!), que apaga o futuro,

copiando-lhe a origem.

Assim, o sono é perigoso,

Pois sendo necessário,

Faz as suas armadilhas…

E eu, não consigo sair delas.

Acordar não devia existir
é quando nos perdemos e choramos
vou tomar um elixir
para ver se nos juntamos.

As letras escorregam no pão
e dinheiro para ir ao teatro?
se no fim vai todo para o avião
daqueles que só são sonâmbulos.

Tiram-te tudo: os pais, os livros, visão
rins são para destruir
e tu lutas para não ir tudo em vão
e o sonho parece que está a ruir.

Tudo o que existe é imaginado
os cheiros, as folhas, as plantas.

In this river

In this river there’s a dirty drop of rain flowing downhill,
it’s me.
I am the dirty drop flowing downhill in this river.

In this river there’s a dirty drop of rain flowing downhill,
it’s me.
I am the dirty drop flowing downhill in this river.

In this river there’s a dirty drop of rain flowing downhill,
it’s me.
I am the dirty drop flowing downhill in this river.

In this river.

967,5 (room no.)

I don’t like to travel alone,
I’d like to share the city’s map with you,
pay twice the entrance in this museum,
have two nightstands in this hotel room.

968,
why did I leave the airport without you,
just because you were late?

In this hotel room number 968,
I’m waiting for my brother to show me this town.
After all, we were suppose to help him with the emptiness,
but it seems that I’m the one who’s emptier.

I’m empty of good thoughts,
of hope, of joy.
I feel like I’m going to heaven,
or is this room number 967?

Sad time.

It is sad.
It is sad because of time.
It is sad because I want to cry.
It is not sad because I want to.

It is sad because you want to.
It is sad because you don’t want to cry.
It is sad because of time.
It is sad.

When i'm sad, I sleep.
When I sleep, I dream.
When I dream, you are with me.
When you are with me, I wake up.
When I wake up, it’s sad.

So why sleep to dream, to be with you and be sad?
Why can’t it be happy and real?
Why do I think? Why do I have imagination?
To be sad?

Coincidences

Coincidences are magnets,
burning magnets that melt a relationship.
If the supernatural exists,
it's their party of revelation.

Some find it scary,
the special ones.
Some find it intriguing,
the mad ones.

Unreal world says:
it's usual, it's imagination.
Real world says:
live your life, live your dreams.

Some find it meaningless,
the wiser ones.
Some find it appealing,
the dreamer ones.

Fog

I need you
I miss those innocent times when
I could see your smile
and I dream about it

I can’t do it now
all I see is you far away
far away in the fog
and this fog is smothering me

I wait, wait and wait
(and I used to like to wait)
but that was when we’re together
and now I can’t see anything in your fog

Lights on please, lights on
if I’ll lose your smile, this fog will swallow me
and I’m not so far way from you
if you want to stop and help me with the lights.