quinta-feira, 8 de agosto de 2013

My heart is a drummer

As I am preparing myself to say farewell to my pride again. I remember how it was back then: I'd see you light a cigarette, and then you'd ask me to pass your asthma inhaler. I'd say "Don't you ever think about cancer?"

You'd say "Baby, you don't know but my heart is as strong as a drummer".

You make me feel like apologising for being like this: do I have to, say I'm sorry for my happiness? You see it's like loving "Graceland", it's not allowed to be but we know it's everybody's favourite.

...and when you call me, on the telephone my fingers will twist through the cord
and I'll slide my feet up and down the wall... but I know that I'm stronger than you are.

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