Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.
Par Dale Coooper
Supernaturalist.
Par Dale Coooper
See my solitude
Where once was truth now only doubt
Touch my tortured skin
Torn from within and from without
Kiss my blistered lips
My fingertips frost-bitten and grey
Heal my wound within
And watch the dead skin fall away
See what can’t be seen
Between the table and the chair
Touch what can’t be touched
The national trust don’t own the air
Kiss what can’t be kissed
This is the risk we have to take
Heal what can’t be healed
And feel the dead skin fall away
Only you and I know exactly how it feels
To unblinker a narrow mind
And by doing so reveal the obscurity of life
The intensity of dreams
Only you and I have realised exactly what it means
See the infant sun
Whose time has come to climb the mist
Touch the autumn sky
Burned by the supernaturalist
Kiss the purest lips
The morning slips into the day
Rising from the bed
We feel our dead skin fall away
Where once was truth now only doubt
Touch my tortured skin
Torn from within and from without
Kiss my blistered lips
My fingertips frost-bitten and grey
Heal my wound within
And watch the dead skin fall away
See what can’t be seen
Between the table and the chair
Touch what can’t be touched
The national trust don’t own the air
Kiss what can’t be kissed
This is the risk we have to take
Heal what can’t be healed
And feel the dead skin fall away
Only you and I know exactly how it feels
To unblinker a narrow mind
And by doing so reveal the obscurity of life
The intensity of dreams
Only you and I have realised exactly what it means
See the infant sun
Whose time has come to climb the mist
Touch the autumn sky
Burned by the supernaturalist
Kiss the purest lips
The morning slips into the day
Rising from the bed
We feel our dead skin fall away
Hélas. Hélas.
Par Dale Coooper
Alors tu vois, comme tout se mêle... Et du coeur à tes levres, je deviens un casse-tête. Ton rire me crie de te lâcher avant de perdre prise, et d'abandonner... Car je ne t'en demanderai jamais autant, déja que tu me traites comme un grand enfant. Nous n'avons trop rien à risquer, à part nos vies qu'on laisse de coté...
C'en est assez de ces dédoublements, c'est plus dure à faire, qu'autrement, car sans rire c'est plus facile de rêver à ce qu'on ne pourra, jamais plus toucher...
On se prend la main, comme des enfants, le bonheur aux lèvres, un peu naïvement... Et on marche ensemble, d'un pas décidé alors que nos têtes nous crient de tout arrêter.
