Sunday, October 26, 2008

A Perfect Sonnet

Lately I've been wishing I had one desire
something that would make me never want another
something that would make it so that nothing matters
all would be clear then

but I guess I'll have to settle for a few brief moments
and watch it all dissolve into a single second
try to write it down into a perfect sonnet
or one foolish line

'cause that's all that you'll get so you'll have to accept
you are here then you're gone
but I believe that lovers should be tied together
thrown into the ocean in the worst of weather
left there to drown
left there to drown
in their innocence

but as for me I'm coming to the final chapter
I read all of the pages and there's still no answer
only all that was before I know must soon come after
that's the only way it can be

so I stand in the sun
and I breathe with my lungs
trying to spare me the weight of the truth
saying everything you've ever seen was just a mirror
spent your whole life sweating in an endless fever
now you're laying in a bathtub full of freezing water
wishing you were a ghost

but once you knew a girl and you named her lover
danced with her in kitchens through the greenest summer
autumn came, she disappeared
you can't remember where she said she was going to

but you know that she is gone 'cause she left you a song
that you don't want to sing
singing I believe that lovers should be chained together
thrown into a fire with their songs and letters
left there to burn
left there to burn
in their arrogance
but as for me I'm coming to my final failure
killed myself with changes trying to make things better
ended up becoming something other than what I had planned to be

now I believe that lovers should be draped in flowers
and laid entwined together on a bed of clover
left there to sleep
left there to dream of their happiness

(Bright Eyes. A Perfect Sonnet. Porque emo é a mãe! Conor Oberst é indie folk.)

1 comment:

Fred Sorin said...

sonetos sao compostos de dois quartetos e dois tercetos, normalmente numa metrica de sete silabas, ou redondilha maior, como preferir.
veja soneto do mar, composto pelo grande autor e um pouco megalomaniaco fred mattos

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