Pienso en el verano que se va, pero cuántos veranos se nos han ido ya. Cuántos septiembres de pieles curtidas y secas y mochilas repletas de vivencias que si vuelven lo harán en forma de difuso recuerdo, mitad mentira y mitad verdad idealizada. Cuántos cambios de etapas, cuántos saltos al vacío. Cuántos nuevos momentos, cuánta vida por delante. Cuánta esperanza. Cuánta libertad en forma de oportunidad.
Lola Marsh (Someday Tomorrow Maybe)
Moments like this
Seem to be short and immortal
As I take my last breath
I realize show time is over
I wonder
What am I to do
What am I to say
What am I to be
What am I to do
What am I to say
What am I to be
Shortly I’ll be leaving
My marbles I’ll be giving
To you old friend
Colorful balloons are painting my pale moon
Shortly I’ll be leaving
My marbles I’ll be giving
To you old friend
Colorful balloons are painting my pale moon
Trains pass me
Please, don’t rush me
My time to shine will come
Until then I’m lying
Hungry in the sun
Trains pass me
Please, don’t rush me
My time to shine will come
Until then I’m lying
Hungry in the sun
Trains pass me
Please, don’t rush
My time to shine will come
Until then I’m lying
Hungry in the sun
Trains pass me
Please, don’t rush me
My time to shine will come
Until then I’m lying
Hungry in the sun
Hungry in the sun
