Marillion - Script For A Jester's Tear
27.10.14
Unknown
2 Comments
27.10.14 Unknown 2 Comments
So here I am once more in the playground of the broken hearts
One more experience, one more entry in a diary, self-penned
Yet another emotional suicide overdosed on sentiment and pride
Too late to say I love you, too late to re-stage the play
Abandoning the relics in my playground of yesterday
I'm losing on the swings, I'm losing on the roundabouts
I'm losing on the swings, I'm losing on the roundabouts
Too much, too soon, too far to go, too late to play, the game is over
T the game is over
So here I am once more in the playground of the broken heart
I'm losing on the swings, losing on the roundabouts, the game is over, over
Yet another emotional suicide overdosed on sentiment and pride
I'm losing on the swings, losing on the roundabouts, the game is over
Too late to say I love you, too late to re-stage the play
The game is over
I act the role in classic style of a martyr carved with twisted smile
To bleed the lyric for this song to write the rites to right my wrongs
An epitaph to a broken dream to exercise this silent scream
A scream that's borne from sorrow
I never did write that love song, the words just never seemed to flow
Now sad in reflection did I gaze through perfection
And examine the shadows on the other side of the morning
And examine the shadows on the other side of mourning
Promised wedding now a wake
The fool escaped from paradise will look over his shoulder and cry
Sit and chew on daffodils and struggle to answer why?
As you grow up and leave the playground
Where you kissed your prince and found your frog
Remember the jester that showed you tears, the script for tears
So I'll hold our peace forever when you wear your bridal gown
In the silence of my shame the mute that sang the sirens' song
Has gone solo in the game, I've gone solo in the game
But the game is over
Can you still say you love me
Eric Drooker - painter
30.5.14
Unknown
3 Comments
30.5.14 Unknown 3 Comments
Le nubi ripiegano l'ale
al fresco alitar di levante;
sottili tra l'erbe e le piante
oscillano ponti d'opale.
Laggiù non più livido e fosco
color di melmose maremme
ma fra le radure del bosco
il lago sfavilla di gemme.
Risorgi, o mio spirito, imita
il fior de le roride aiuole
già prono dal nembo. La vita
è bella; v'è ancora il sole!
Vittoria Aganoor ( Dopo la pioggia )
Thor Lindeneg
29.5.14
Unknown
0 Comments
29.5.14 Unknown 0 Comments
L’amorosa
Lei è in piedi sulle mie palpebre
E i suoi capelli sono nei miei,
Lei ha la forma delle mie mani,
Lei ha il colore dei miei occhi,
Lei è sprofondata dentro la mia ombra
Come una pietra sopra il cielo.
Lei ha sempre gli occhi aperti
E non mi lascia dormire.
I suoi sogni in piena luce
Fanno evaporare i soli,
Mi fanno ridere, piangere e ridere
Parlare senza avere niente da dire.
Paul Eluard
Iscriviti a:
Post (Atom)
Cerca nel Blog
Google Friend Connect
Popular Posts
Etichette
Post più popolari
-
Homo Erraticus, il nuovo album da solista di Ian Anderson, compositore cantante e leader dei mitici Jethro Tull. - Enter The Uninvited...
-
Federico Garcia Lorca Giaccio da solo nella casa silenziosa, la lampada è spenta, e stendo pian piano le mie mani per afferrare le tue...
-
Uno stile che combina elementi dell' espressionismo con quelli del Novecento italiano.
0 commenti: