sábado, 11 de dezembro de 2010

I don't weep, do you?




there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I'm not going
to let anybody see you.
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I pur whiskey on him and inhale
cigarette smoke
and the whores and the bartenders
and the grocery clerks
never know that
he's in there.

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say, stay down,
do you want to mess me up?

you want to screw up the works?
you want to blow my book sales in Europe?

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too clever, I only let him out
at night sometimes
when everybody's asleep.

I say, I know that you're there,
so don't be sad.
then I put him back,
but he's singing a little
in there, I haven't quite let him die
and we sleep together like
that with our
secret pact
and it's nice enough to
make a man
weep, but I don't
weep, do you?


(valeu, @renatab)

Um comentário:

Paulo disse...

Bukowski é rei.