Left over wine

What do you do when the people go home?
And what do you do when the show is all done?
I know what I'll do in the alone of my time
But what will I do with the leftover wine

A line from a poem of my childhood has said
That visions of sugarplums were gonna dance in my head
I'll spend my whole life making the time rhyme
But I'll still have a bowl of leftover wine

I'll spend my whole life making the time thyme
And then I'm gonna run to the people
And I'll sing them a song of mine
You know I'm gonna do anything
Just to take up time
Because I can't find a taker for the leftover wine

I'll drink some of yours
If you'll drink all of mine
Because I can't stand the taste of that leftover wine...

Melanie Safka 'Leftover Wine'

Quando a festa acaba, quando ficam os resquícios de almas carburadas. Quando o vazio volta a encher o peito. Quando as gargalhadas não passam de ecos, bem disfarçados de tragédias alheias. Todos têm cicatrizes, umas sararam, outras não. (E é muito irónico que a expressão 'sarar' esteja associada a ferida).

Mas e depois o que se faz? Fica aquela névoa de enjoo quando esvaziamos os cinzeiros. Fica a sensação de remendo. E tudo volta.

by fiona bacana