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TeamWait 'til you’re announcedWe’ve not yet lost all our gracesThe hounds will stay in chainsLook upon your greatnessThat you’ll send the call out(Send the call out [15x])Call all the ladies outThey’re in their fineryA hundred jewels on throatsA hundred jewels between teethNow bring my boys inTheir skin in craters like the moonThe moon we love like a brother, while he glows through the roomDancin' around the lies we tellDancin' around big eyes as wellEven the comatose they don’t dance and tell[Chorus]We live in cities you'll never see on screenNot very pretty, but we sure know how to run thingsLiving in ruins of the palace within my dreamsAnd you know, we're on each other's teamI'm kind of over getting told to throw my hands up in the air, so thereSo all the cups got broke shards beneath our feet but it wasn’t my faultAnd everyone’s competing for a love they won't receive'Cause what this palace wants is release[Chorus]We live in cities you'll never see on screenNot very pretty, but we sure know how to run thingsLiving in ruins of the palace within my dreamsAnd you know, we're on each other's teamI’m kind of over getting told to throw my hands up in the airSo thereI’m kinda older than I was when I revelled without a careSo there[Chorus]We live in cities you'll never see on screenNot very pretty, but we sure know how to run thingsLiving in ruins of the palace within my dreamsAnd you know, we're on each other's teamWe're on each other's teamAnd you know, we're on each other's teamWe're on each other's teamAnd you know, and you know, and you know---Read more at http://www.lyrics.com/team-lyrics-lorde.html#CqkDGi1Mf1CJ3TjK.99
The BalloonI went to the sea of love, this noonI took it and put it in a blue balloonI brought this balloon, so blueall the way, especially for youSo, quick, quick, quickGive this balloon a pricklet's bathe in its contenta sea of love, to never end
Trapped in a PrismTrapped in a PrismAnd there’s no way to tellAm I the one loveOr am I sentenced to hell? Life trudges along loveWith everydayAm I the one loveOr have you put me away? Some days it seems likeAll can be wellAm I the one love Or did you swear not to tell? I cannot go on dearLife has not been so swellAm I the one dearOr is this my own cell? I’m in the pit nowAnd that’s where I will dwellSo please release meAnd put an end to this spell
platonic lovemy magic heart- shaped black coral and your zenith rock solid beautyignite our inflammable emerald passionsbut I am acockcastrated bypromises given toanother hen, a fear grippedin the lion heart of mine to earnignominious fame so I sing the song of love like a cage- bird though my rhythm stolenby the burden of life I descend every night to the roof of your fairydreams though mywings are cutbythe pipingeyes of bigots, I hear the waves of thesound carry the urge of your mysterious mystic eyes though somejealous created a wall I smell your showeringbreath in the flowers though the gardener leads thebees after me some sharks make hindrance totaste your smile in the still waters stillI pray to make you free from theblistering spell of charms ofour love to be happy toprance aroundandgive meall the pain of cuts of neighbours tongues.
August 1968The Ogre does what ogres can,Deeds quite impossible for Man,But one prize is beyond his reach,The Ogre cannot master Speech:About a subjugated plain,Among its desperate and slain,The Ogre stalks with hands on hips,While drivel gushes from his lips.
Enivrez-VousEnivrez-Vous Always be drunk.That's it!The great imperative!In order not to feelTime's horrid fardelbruise your shoulders,grinding you into the earth,get drunk and stay that way.On what?On wine, poetry, virtue, whatever.But get drunk.And if you sometimes happen to wake upon the porches of a palace,in the green grass of a ditch,in the dismal lonelinessof your own room,your drunkenness gone or disappearing,ask the wind,the wave,the star,the bird,the clock,ask everything that flees,everything that groansor rollsor sings,everything that speaks,ask what time it is;and the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clockwill answer you:"Time to get drunk!Don't be martyred slaves of Time,Get drunk!Stay drunk!On wine, virtue, poetry, whatever!"
The New JerusalemAnd did those feet in ancient timeWalk upon England's mountains green?And was the holy Lamb of GodOn England's pleasant pastures seen?And did the Countenance DivineShine forth upon our clouded hills?And was Jerusalem builded hereAmong these dark Satanic Mills?Bring me my bow of burning gold!Bring me my arrows of desire!Bring me my spear! O clouds, unfold!Bring me my charriot of fire!I will not cease from mental fight,Nor shall my sword sleep in my handTill we have built JerusalemIn England's green and pleasant land.
Kiss of my LoveYour beauty overwhelms meAs I wrap my arms around youI press your softness tightGreat passion fills my inner beingI'm captured in your embraceYour eyes control my very soulThe touch of your lips, heavenForever frozen in timeAll else fades into nothing
Can I Forget You?When I can no longerdepend on my museto guide heart and hand.Pen and paper lyingbeside me, not a wordforth coming.Paper turning yellowwith age, my eyes closefor the last time, I breathe my final breathcan I forget you?
I know what love is!I know what seeing is! As I saw you that day for the first time So I know what liking is! I know what striking is! As I stroke stone against stone So I know what the spark is! I know what rubbing is! As I rubbed heart against heart So I know what love is! I know what caring is! As I had been used to it since we metSo I know what soft touch is! I know what fire is! As I had been burning along with you So I know what nectar is! I know what compassion is! As I have experienced it with you So I know what affection is! I know what addiction is! As I have been addicted to the smell of you So I know what obsession is! I know what memory is! As I have experienced the break up So I know what the hurt is! I know what mistake is! As I have been the victim of misjudgement So I know what reconciliation is! I know what longing is! As I have suffered from emptiness So I know what she is! I know what losing is! As I have lost in the rough wind So I know what I miss!
Bitter Blow of LoveLove! you dealt a bitter blow –You lay me cross the mortal plains, Bedewed, bedimmed amongst a showOf tearful clouds: eternal rains To weep at my enduring foeOf harsh reality – searing pains ofDestiny: dependable propensity To fool myself repeatedlyThat I could ever triumph over love!
Elogio al Aprendizaje¡Aprende las cosas elementarias!¡Para aquellos a quienes les ha llegado la hora nunca es demasadio tarde!Aprende el abecedario. No bastará,¡pero apréndolo! ¡No dejes que te desanimen!¡Comienza! Debes saber todo.Tienes que ser dirigente.¡Aprende, hombre en el asilo!¡Aprende, hombre en la prisión!¡Aprende, mujer en la cocina!¡Aprende, tú que tienes 60 años!Tienes que ser dirigente.¡Busca la esquela, tú que no tienes casa!¡No tengas miedo de preguntar, camarada!No dejes que te induzcan a nada.¡Investiga por ti mismo!Lo que no sepas tú mismo no lo conoces.Examina los detalles a fondo;eres tú él que paga las consequencias.Pon tu dedo en cada detalle, pregunta: ¿Cómo llegó esto aqui?Tienes que ser dirigente.
Childe Roland tothe Dark Tower Came
My first thought was, he lied in every word,That hoary cripple, with malicious eyeAskance to watch the working of his lieOn mine, and mouth scarce able to affordSuppression of the glee, that pursed and scoredIts edge, at one more victim gained thereby.
What else should he be set for, with his staff?What, save to waylay with his lies, ensnareAll travellers who might find him posted there,And ask the road? I guessed what skull-like laughWould break, what crutch 'gin write my epitaphFor pastime in the dusty thoroughfare,
If at his council I should turn asideInto that ominous tract which, all agree,Hides the Dark Tower. Yet acquiescinglyI did turn as he pointed: neither prideNor hope rekindling at the end descried,So much as gladness that some end might be.
For, what with my whole world-wide wandering,What with my search drawn out through years, my hopeDwindled into a ghost not fit to copeWith that obstreperous joy success would bring, -I hardly tried now to rebuke the springMy heart made, finding failure in its scope
As when a sick man very near to deathSeems dead indeed, and feels begin and endThe tears and takes the farewell of each friend,And hears one bid the other go, draw breathFreelier outside, ('since all is o'er,' he saith,'And the blow fallen no grieving can amend';)
While some discuss if near the other gravesBe room enough for this, and when a daySuits best for carrying the corpse away,With care about the banners, scarves and staves:And still the man hears all, and only cravesHe may not shame such tender love and stay.
Thus, I had so long suffered in this quest,Heard failure prophesied so oft, been writSo many times among 'The Band' - to wit,The knights who to the Dark Tower's search addressedTheir steps - that just to fail as they, seemed best,And all the doubt was now - should I be fit?
So, quiet as despair, I turned from him,That hateful cripple, out of his highwayInto the path he pointed. All the dayHad been a dreary one at best, and dimWas settling to its close, yet shot one grimRed leer to see the plain catch its estray.
For mark! no sooner was I fairly foundPledged to the plain, after a pace or two,Than, pausing to throw backward a last viewO'er the safe road, 'twas gone; grey plain all round:Nothing but plain to the horizon's bound.I might go on; naught else remained to do.
So, on I went. I think I never sawSuch starved ignoble nature; nothing throve:For flowers - as well expect a cedar grove!But cockle, spurge, according to their lawMight propagate their kind, with none to awe,You'd think: a burr had been a treasure-trove.No! penury, inertness and grimace,In some strange sort, were the land's portion. 'SeeOr shut your eyes,' said Nature peevishly,'It nothing skills: I cannot help my case:'Tis the Last Judgement's fire must cure this place,Calcine its clods and set my prisoners free.'
If there pushed any ragged thistle-stalkAbove its mates, the head was chopped; the bentsWere jealous else. What made those holes and rentsIn the dock's harsh swarth leaves, bruised as to balkAll hope of greeness? 'tis a brute must walkPushing their life out, with a brute's intents.As for the grass, it grew as scant as hairIn leprosy; thin dry blades pricked the mudWhich underneath looked kneaded up with blood.One stiff blind horse, his every bone a-stare,Stood stupefied, however he came there:Thrust out past service from the devil's stud!Alive? he might be dead for aught I know,With that red gaunt and colloped neck a-strain,And shut eyes underneath the rusty mane;Seldom went such grotesqueness with such woe;I never saw a brute I hated so;He must be wicked to deserve such pain.I shut my eyes and turned them on my heart.As a man calls for wine before he fights, I asked one draught of earlier, happier sights,Ere fitly I could hope to play my part.Think first, fight afterwards - this soldier's art:One taste of the old time sets all to rights.Not it! I fancied Cuthbert's reddening faceBeneath its garniture of curly gold,Dear fellow, till I almost felt him foldAn arm in mine to fix me to the place,That way he used. Alas, one night's disgrace!Out went my heart's new fire and left it cold.Giles then, the soul of honour - there he standsFrank as ten years ago when knighted first.What honest man should dare (he said) he durst.Good - but the scene shifts - faugh! what hangman-handsPin to his breast a parchment? His own bandsRead it. Poor traitor, spit upon and curst!Better this present than a past like that;Back therefore to my darkening path again!No sound, no sight as far as eye could strain.Will the night send a howlet or a bat?I asked: when something on the dismal flatCame to arrest my thoughts and change their train.A sudden little river crossed my pathAs unexpected as a serpent comes.No sluggish tide congenial to the glooms;This, as it frothed by, might have been a bathFor the fiend's glowing hoof - to see the wrathOf its black eddy bespate with flakes and spumes.So petty yet so spiteful! All along,Low scrubby alders kneeled down over it;Drenched willows flung them headlong in a fitOf mute despair, a suicidal throng:The river which had done them all the wrong,Whate'er that was, rolled by, deterred no whit.
Which, while I forded, - good saints, how I fearedTo set my foot upon a dead man's cheek,Each step, or feel the spear I thrust to seekFor hollows, tangled in his hair or beard! - It may have been a water-rat I speared,But, ugh! it sounded like a baby's shriek.Glad was I when I reached the other bank.Now for a better country. Vain presage!Who were the strugglers, what war did they wage,Whose savage trample thus could pad the dankSoil to a plash? Toads in a poisoned tank,Or wild cats in a red-hot iron cage -The fight must so have seemed in that fell cirque.What penned them there, with all the plain to choose?No foot-print leading to that horrid mews,None out of it. Mad brewage set to workTheir brains, no doubt, like galley-slaves the TurkPits for his pastime, Christians against Jews.And more than that - a furlong on - why, there!What bad use was that engine for, that wheel,Or brake, not wheel - that harrow fit to reelMen's bodies out like silk? with all the airOf Tophet's tool, on earth left unaware,Or brought to sharpen its rusty teeth of steel.Then came a bit of stubbed ground, once a wood,Next a marsh, it would seem, and now mere earthDesperate and done with; (so a fool finds mirth,Makes a thing and then mars it, till his moodChanges and off he goes!) within a rood -Bog, clay and rubble, sand and stark black dearth.Now blotches rankling, coloured gay and grim,Now patches where some leanness of the soil'sBroke into moss or substances like boils;Then came some palsied oak, a cleft in himLike a distorted mouth that splits its rimGaping at death, and dies while it recoils.And just as far as ever from the end!Naught in the distance but the evening, naughtTo point my footstep further! At the thought,A great black bird, Apollyon's bosom-friend,Sailed past, not beat his wide wing dragon-pennedThat brushed my cap - perchance the guide I sought.For, looking up, aware I somehow grew,'Spite of the dusk, the plain had given placeAll round to mountains - with such name to graceMere ugly heights and heaps now stolen in view.How thus they had surprised me, - solve it, you!How to get from then was no clearer case.Yet half I seemed to recognise some trickOf mischief happened to me, God knows when -In a bad dream perhaps. Here ended, the, Progress this way. When, in the very nickOf giving up, one time more, came a clickAs when a trap shuts - you're inside the den!Burningly it came on me all at once,This was the place! those two hills on the right,Crouched like two bulls locked horn in horn in fight;While to the left, a tall scalped mountain...Dunce,Dotard, a-dozing at the very nonce,After a life spent training for the sight!What in the midst lay but the Tower itself?The round squat turret, blind as the fool's heart,Built of brown stone, without a counterpartIn the whole world. The tempest's mocking elfPoints to the shipman thus the unseen shelfHe strikes on, only when the timbers start.Not see? because of night perhaps? - why, dayCame back again for that! before it left,The dying sunset kindled through a cleft:The hills, like giants at a hunting, lay,Chin upon hand, to see the game at bay, -'Now stab and end the creature - to the heft!'Not hear? when noise was everywhere! it tolledIncreasing like a bell. Names in my earsOf all the lost adventurers my peers, -How such a one was strong, and such was bold,And such was fortunate, yet each of oldLost, lost! one moment knelled the woe of years.There they stood, ranged along the hill-sides, metTo view the last of me, a living frameFor one more picture! in a sheet of flameI saw them and I knew them all. And yetDauntless the slug-horn to my lips I set,And blew. 'Childe Roland to the Dark Tower came.'
Qué rico las opiniones son bienvenidas.Gracias, Ana María - Penélope