sexta-feira, 2 de maio de 2008


Eduardo B. Penteado

Stay away from my old swamp
It´s cold and dark and damp
Oh, yes, I guess I love the mess
That hides beneath my false distress
No trees, no breeze, no lust, no leaves
My madness coupled with disease
All your screams are muffled dreams
And all your hope lies with the fiend
Everything that you most fear
Is waiting for your face in here
Hold me, hold me, metal tonsils
Abort me, blind eyes of justice
I have thrived, thus I have failed
Thou art but my truth unveiled
I couldn´t bear the birth of dawn
Hence cometh the weight of night upon
Bliss, bliss, remember this
I might be slain by a word amiss
Bliss, bliss, art not remiss
I might be saved with a simple kiss.

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