All the girls on these times of disaster want a party I m not able to give, so I learn every night some new clapping and dancing and the compass measure is the show.
When it would be so easy to give me a cure at night: some heat, some strength, near the dance floor. Just the softest 3 by 4 and you moving the head. No fear. No blankets. No pills. A hymn, yes.
All the girls on these times of disaster want a party I m not able to give, so I learn every night some new clapping and dancing and the compass measure is the show.
Then it always comes the morning and it s sometimes really quiet but always full of echoes of you. The newspaper speaking noisy and the countdown of parent s wake. The shout of a life that it's silly and foul.