I’ve said too much

Boys Don’t Cry

L’originale est de The Cure.

I would say I’m sorry
If I thought that it would change your mind
But I know that this time
I’ve said too much
Been too unkind

I try to laugh about it
Cover it all up with lies
I try and
Laugh about it
Hiding the tears in my eyes
’cause boys don’t cry
Boys don’t cry

I would break down at your feet
And beg forgiveness
Plead with you
But I know that
It’s too late
And now there’s nothing I can do

So I try to laugh about it
Cover it all up with lies
I try to
laugh about it
Hiding the tears in my eyes
’cause boys don’t cry

I would tell you
That I loved you
If I thought that you would stay
But I know that it’s no use
That you’ve already
Gone away

Misjudged your limits
Pushed you too far
Took you for granted
I thought that you needed me more

Now I would do most anything
To get you back by my side
But I just
Keep on laughing
Hiding the tears in my eyes
’cause boys don’t cry
Boys don’t cry
Boys don’t cry


Gently Interlace


Seamy stories of another time

And silky lies drowned in cherry wine

Candlelight is stealing details

Closing down in fettered veins

As weeds spread out and stride the ledge

The monsters left too much unsaid

But when will come

More degrees

It’s been too long

When you’ve seen cunning scenes

Pictures drawn out from another place

Where tongues and limbs gently interlace

Frameless ways of surrendering

And other cautions growing dim

Then blows recede as shadows bend

The fingers give a stroke to rend

They reveal an unbounded sight

Tales of dead ends can’t deny

So there will come

More degrees

It’s been so long

Since you’ve seen lulling dreams

Merci DC


Late At Night



A Rain Song


Voici un truc vite fait de Neil Hannon (The Divine Comedy sur l’album Promenade) en attendant quelque chose de plus concret.

Bon c’est lent et monotone mais j’ai fait ça ce matin à 7h alors bon… Au pire lisez juste les paroles elles en valent la peine.

While they have been eating The rain has started falling, Gradually gathering in strength; What began a drizzle Has now become torrential, And doesn’t look like coming to an end. The two bedraggled figures That huddle in the doorway, With nothing vaguely waterproof to wear, Are now secretly wishing They’d listened to their mothers When being told to always be prepared. Screaming ’geronimo!’, They run for it down the road; With an arm around her waist He leads her to a place He knows. Soaked through, but happy, They squelch up to the landing; The room before them Makes a welcome sight. The coal fire is throwing Strange shapes upon the hearthrug, And crying out to be knelt down beside. She pulls off her jumper And flings it in the corner; He picks it up and hangs it on a chair. She puts on a record And sings into her coffee; He puts a blanket round her, Sits her down And dries her beautiful hair.