Sunday, December 06, 2009

El tiempo lo cura todo

Estoy convencido que el tiempo lo cura todo. La incertidumbre no está en la solución, pero en la duración del método. No es cuestión de razón, ya que mis ríos o desplomes son irracionales, pero eso no los convierte en quimeras.

Frente a un sublime atardecer de diciembre, cierro mis ojos. Proclamo mi derecho a disfrutar del naranja en los árboles y del bermellón del sol, de la brisa que seca mis ojos y del crujir de mis estómagos.



Wait It On
Imogen Heap

Where do we go from here?
How do we carry on?
I can't get beyond the questions.
Clambering for the scraps
in the shatter of us collapsed.
It cuts me with every could-have-been.

Pain on pain on play, repeating
With the backup makeshift life in waiting.

Everybody says time heals everything.
But what of the wretched hollow?
The endless in-between?
Are we just going to wait it out?

There's nothing to see here now,
turning the sign around;
We're closed to the Earth 'til further notice.
A Stumbling cliche case,
crumbled and puffy faced.
Dead in the stare of a thousand miles.

All I want, only one street-level miracle.
I'll be a an out-and-out, born again from none more cynical.

Everybody says time heals everything.
But what of the wretched hollow?
The endless in-between?
Are we just going to wait it out?

And sit here cold?
Well, We'll be long gone by then.
And lackluster in dust we lay
Around old magazines.
Fluorescent lighting sets the scene
for all we could and should be being
in the one life that we've got.

(Ah, Ah, Ah)

In the one life that we've got.

Everybody says that time heals everything.
But what of the wretched hollow?
The endless in-between?

Are we just going to wait it out? sit Here?
Just going to Wait it out? Sit here cold?
Just going to sweat it out?
Wait it out.