Ahh, esa díficil costumbre de que esté muerto.
Él, que podía hacerte escuchar las hojas de los árboles en un rojo día de otoño. Es raro escuchar las canciones de este cantautor inglés y luego darse cuenta de como murió de soledad, después de dejar tres discos magníficos que la gente apenas escuchó. Pero es un mundo raro.
I was born to love no one
No one to love me
Only the wind in the long green grass
The frost in a broken tree.
I was made to love magic
All its wonder to know
But you all lost that magic
Many many years ago.
I was born to use my eyes
Dream with the sun and the skies
To float away in a lifelong song
In the mist where melody flies.
I was born to sail away
Into a land of forever
Not to be tied to an old stone grave
In your land of never.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
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