"Vasos chineses se quebram. Copos de cristal, ventiladores de teto, discos da Tina Turner, se estivermos com sorte. Pessoas nunca, a não ser quando esquecem de olhar os dois lados. Mas emocionalmente falando, não. Quem sou eu pra dar pitaco na sua fossa? Ninguém. Você levou um tombo e tanto, e pronto. Se machucou, ok. Dói, eu sei. Perdeu sua capacidade de amar, verdade. Ou não. Não existem verdades, apenas versões, na minha versão."
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A lone speaker in a conversation
Her words are swimming through his ears again
There’s nothing wrong with just a taste of what you’ve paid for
Say what you mean, tell me I’m right
And let the sun rain down on me
Give me a sign, I wanna believe
Her words are swimming through his ears again
There’s nothing wrong with just a taste of what you’ve paid for
Say what you mean, tell me I’m right
And let the sun rain down on me
Give me a sign, I wanna believe
He senses something, call it desperation
Another dollar, another day
And if she had the proper words to say, she would tell him
But she’d have nothing left to sell him
Another dollar, another day
And if she had the proper words to say, she would tell him
But she’d have nothing left to sell him
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