Every phrase and every sentence is an end and a beginning.

Every poem an epitaph.

/ T.S.Eliot /

lunes, 17 de enero de 2011

- Pink Floyd - Wish You Were Here -

So, so you think you can tell
Heaven from Hell,
Blue skies from pain.
Can you tell a green field
From a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?

Did they get you to trade
Your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
And cold comfort for change?
Did you exchange
A walk on part in the war,
For a lead role in a cage?

How I wish, how I wish you were here.
We're just two lost souls
Swimming in a fish bowl,
Year after year,
Running over the same old ground.
What have we found
The same old fears.
Wish you were here.

2 comentarios:

S. dijo...

Disfruté tu blog, tenemos muchas lecturas en común.

Matías dijo...

Ah, preciosa adolescencia. Gran tema, catártico, melancólico y todo eso. Besos.