Mora Amaro la Loba and Marcus Nalgaber /Music/Video/Art/

C’est la vie, a French song


When the night is dark
there are lots of ghosts
in the halls of my today

and while you talk
I am rambling

I'm afraid of time
I'm afraid of its wind
which erases the memory
of people's lives

This is life, this is life
they say
It's Time, It's Time
I say. X2

I'm scared
to get the debris of a tree
or the ship sunk
in the sea of oblivion x2

And while you talk
I ramble
I ramble

This is life, this is life they say
It's Time, It's Time I say
 
Each morning she does the same


When the morning comes
I see your emptiness in the bed
and with that image in my gaze
I surrender to fantasy
that you are you still in my life

every day, every day

I leave the TV on
and put on the little table
the sketchbooks
that so much entertained you

To fill the room
with heat
of voice and color
and walk that space
without feeling so much cold

every day, every day
 
Like glass bottles on a truck with no brakes


They were 30
on the small boat
like glass bottles
on a truck
with broken brakes

All of them seemed ghosts
trapped
in a tunnel
far from
where they were born
far from
were they were going going going

The sea roared
leaving them lost
and in the midst of so much fear
a woman's voice sung to her son

It's a couple fight
soon their brawl will end
and the sun will come
and with its light you will see
the promised path
towards a chosen destination
my little boy
dream
 
Original Green Music - Best Video Clip - I feel like a tree


Today I feel like an old tree
at the top
of the landscape
of my head

I can no longer bear the weight
of broken dreams
in my branches
nor the hand of time
looking for my last leaves
to tear them off.

Today I feel like an old tree
as I watch the fire advance

sea of flames
that ripples and roars
while closing the distance

Today I feel like an old tree
no feet to save me
from what I look forward to
 
She is like a paper cup


Words escape me
without I can hear them
they are runaway horses
that gallop through my tongue
carrying me astride
with no reins to tame them

they are storms that do not end
in the cave of my mouth

I am a paper cup
half full of voids
in the corner of a bar
at the mercy of a push
or a drunk hand
wanting to rush more drink

The hours scatter
between neon lights
my cat waits for me at home
on the sofa in the hall

I say goodbye to that bar
and go to my refuge
with the walls
bared of childhood memories
while the night breathes
hidden in the corners

I don't think about tomorrow
and Now it slips out my hands
while I take off my clothes
and wash my mouth

if i don't fit in this body
that shrinks with the days
despite being asleep
in the dreams of a girl
I don't think about tomorrow
and Now it slips out my hands
while I take off my clothes
and wash my mouth
 
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