In fear everyday, every evening
He calls her aloud from above,
Carefully watched for a reason,
Painstaking devotion and love,
Surrendered to self preservation,
From others who care for themselves.
A blindness that touches perfection,
But hurts just like anything else.
Isolation, isolation, isolation.
Mother I tried please believe me,
I'm doing the best that I can.
I'm ashamed of the things I've been put through,
I'm ashamed of the person I am.
Isolation, isolation, isolation.
But if you could just see the beauty,
These things I could never describe,
These pleasures a wayward distraction,
This is my one lucky prize.
Isolation, isolation, isolation, isolation, isolation.
Ian Curtis 15-July-1956 - 18-May-1980
Thursday, May 18, 2006
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2 comments:
Um bocado depressivo, não? Nem parece teu!
Hum...
Eram saudades minhas? LOL
Felizmente para ti, não me conheces assim tão bem...
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