E há tempos, nem os anjos têm ao certo a medida do tempo que faz que não posto um lyric aqui… Pra variar, Bon Jovão.
I was walking around, just a face in the crowd
Trying to keep myself out of the rain
Saw a vagabond king wear a styrofoam crown
Wondered if I might end up the same
There’s a man out on the corner, singing old songs about change
Everybody got their cross to bare, these days
She came looking for some shelter with a suitcase full of dreams
To a motel room on the boulevard
I guess she’s trying to be James Dean
She’s seen all the disciples and all the wanna be’s
No one wants to be themselves these days
Still there’s nothing to hold on to but these days
These days – the stars seem out of reach
These days – there ain’t a ladder on these streets
These days – are fast, nothing last in this graceless age
There ain’t nobody left but us these days
Jimmy shoes busted both his legs, trying to learn to fly
From a second story window, he just jumped and closed his eyes
His mamma said he was crazy – he said mamma “I’ve got to try”
Don’t you know that all my heroes died
And I guess I’d rather die than fade away
These days – the stars seem out of reach
But these days – there ain’t a ladder on the streets
These days – are fast, nothing last in this graceless age
Even innocence has caught the midnight train
And there ain’t nobody left but us these days
I know Rome’s still burning
Though the times have changed
This world keeps turning round and round and round and round
These days
These days – the stars seem out of reach
But these days – there ain’t a ladder on the streets
These days – are fast, love don’t last in this graceless age
Even innocence has caught the midnight train
These days – the stars seem out of reach
But these days – there ain’t a ladder on the streets
These days – are fast, nothing last
There ain’t no time to waste
There ain’t nobody left to take the blame
There ain’t nobody left but us these days
Ain’t nobody left but us these days
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Sei que estou comentando no post errado [era pra ser no debaixo], mas poxa… que ódio todo é esse dos cigarros?
Já diria Mario Quintana que “fumar é suspirar sutilmente”.
hohoho
Beijo.
adorei ver o Bon Jovi por aqui… suspeito que a fotinho dos 8 anos tenha te inspirado…
um beijo