Blogame mucho

Bohemian Rapsody

Is this the real life
Is this just fantasy
Caught in a landslide
No escape from reality
Open your eyes
Look up to the skies and see
I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy
Because I'm easy come, easy go,
A little high, little low,
Anyway the wind blows, doesn't really matter to me - to me,
Mama, just killed a man,
Put a gun against his head,
Pulled my trigger, now he's dead,
Mama, life had just begun,
But now I've gone and thrown it all away,
Mama, ooo,
Didn't mean to make you cry
If I'm not back again this time tomorrow
Carry on, carry on, as if nothing really matters

Too late, my time has come,
Sends shivers down my spine,
Body's aching all the time,
Goodbye everybody - I've got to go
Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth
Mama, ooo,
I don't want to die,
I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all
(...)

Aí em cima, está a tragicidade humana em toda a sua dimensão: o paraí­so perdido quando inexoravelmente se cresce, a angústia da temporalidade porque se morre (sobretudo, porque os outros morrem), a nossa própria culpa, a culpa dos outros. A inevitabilidade sublime da vida: no que for importante, nada perder, nada desperdiçar. Acaba assim, de forma sábia, mas humildemente humana: anyway the wind blows...

posted by lolita @ 2:20 da manhã