Esperando el final.

This is not the end, this is not the beginning
Just a voice like a riot, rocking every revision
But you listen to the tone and the violent rhythm
Though the words sound steady, something empty's withing 'em
We say yeah
With fists flying up in the air
Like we're holding onto something that's invisible there
'Cause we're living at the mercy of the pain and the fear
Until we dead it, forget it, let it all disappear

Waiting for the end to come
Wishing I had strength to stand
This is not what I had planned
It's out of my control
Flying at the speed of light
Thoughts were spinning in my head
So many things were left unsaid
It's hard to let you go...



I know what it takes to move on
I know how it feels to lie
All I wanna do is trade this life for something new
Holding on to what I haven't got


Sitting in an empty room
Trying to forget the past
This was never meant to last
I wish it wasn't so...


I know what it takes to move on
I know how it feels to lie
All I wanna do is trade this life for something new
Holding on to what I haven't got

What was left when that fire was gone
I thought it felt right but that right was wrong
All caught up in the eye of the storm
And trying to figure out what it's like moving on
And I don't even know what kind of things I said
My mouth kept moving and my mind went dead
Picking up the pieces, now where to begin?
The hardest part of ending is starting again.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/h-k-d/3063566547/

All I wanna do is trade this life for something new
Holding on to what I haven't got

This is not the end, this is not the beginning
Just a voice like a riot, rocking every revision
But you listen to the tone and the violent rhythm
Though the words sound steady, something empty's withing 'em
We say yeah
With fists flying up in the air
Like we're holding onto something that's invisible there
'Cause we're living at the mercy of the pain and the fear
Until we dead it, forget it, let it all disappear

Días en los que alguien construye una canción con tus sentimientos y la canta como si nada, como si cantase el corro de la patata. Mía. Mía. Cantada con el corazón en la mano, o los trozos remendados que me quedan... ¿No ves cómo se mueve la tierra bajo mis pies?

 

Respiro hondo. Muy hondo. Entierro la pena por debajo del diafragma, de los intestinos. 

Me pondré en pie una y otra vez, y lo sabes. Hasta que no me queden fuerzas. Hasta que me destroce a mí misma en mi terquedad. Y me juraré mi mantra obsesivo (mañana será diferente, mañana todo habrá pasado...)

Mañana.