The Same Deep Water As You

«Ay, in the very temple of delight
Veiled Melancholy has her sovran shrine,
Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue
Can burst Joy’s grape against his palate fine;
His soul shall taste the sadness of her might,
And be among her cloudy trophies hung».
(“Ode on Melancholy” by John Keats)

The Cure – The Same Deep Water As You

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Just one kiss

Solo uno. Solo un beso. Solo un beso que no te pude dar antes de que te fueras. Solo un beso que, a día de hoy, un mes después, sigo sin poder darte para despedirte.
Te quise. Te quiero. Te querré siempre, papá.

The Cure – Just One Kiss

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Una figura decorativa

No es necesario decir quién es una “figura decorativa” en estos momentos en el contexto político español: alguien que no hace nada, alguien que no representa a la población, alguien manipulable, alguien a quien le mueven los hilos desde el exterior y desde el interior desde los estratos sociales más poderosos, alguien que no tiene poder de decisión, alguien que no está resolviendo los problemas del país… en definitiva, como dice The Cure, una figurehead.

Sharp and open
Leave me alone
And sleeping less every night
As the days become heavier and weighted
Waiting
In the cold light
A noise
A scream tears my clothes as the figurines tighten
With spiders inside them
And dust on the lips of a vision of hell
I laughed in the mirror for the first time in a year

A hundred other words blind me with your purity
Like an old painted doll in the throes of dance
I think about tomorrow
Please let me sleep
As I slip down the window
Freshly squashed fly
You mean nothing
You mean nothing

I can lose myself in Chinese art and American girls
All the time
Lose me in the dark
Please do it right
Run into the night
I will lose myself tomorrow
Crimson pain
My heart explodes
My memory in a fire
And someone will listen
At least for a short while…

I can never say no to anyone but you

Too many secrets
Too many lies
Writhing with hatred
Too many secrets
Please make it good tonight…
But the same image haunts me
In sequence
In despair of time

I will never be clean again
I touched her eyes
Pressed my stained face
I will never be clean again

Touch her eyes
Press my stained face
I will never be clean again

I will never be clean again.