era o único nome que me faria ir a um festival no porto mas, dado só se venderem passes para os três dias (com custo acima de cem euros), desculpa-me mark kozelek, ficas agendado para a próxima... e olha, vou ver o kurt wagner primeiro.

A pillow lays on cold cement

A blanket by a broken vent

She's there a while

And then she's gone

I'm away for weeks

Arrive at night

She hears my steps

Turns off the light and runs

No mind at all, more space than I need

It's just me among the weeds

Among the ghosts

Among the leaves

We've never met but she's a girl

Romance paper books

The floor is covered

In long blonde curls

On afternoons I walk the graves

The rusted cars, the mine shaft caves

See a girl sadly unkempt

A child of neglect

Under moons I pass the tombs

Cross the highways, smell the fumes

See a girl frighteningly gaunt

Somebody didn't want

How do I tell her I don't care

If she sleeps downstairs?

I see her on my errand runs

Looking nervous like a young Mia Farrow

Walk along the gas stops

Window browsing pawn shops

Guns, bows and arrows

Up on past the Halfway house

Past the signs Eighty South

Buttercup and Carrows

Drinking Wild Irish Rose

At the dead end of the road

Sleeping with the sparrows

When evening comes I play guitar

For the planets and the stars

I leave the porch light on

Like I do when I'm gone

Winter, spring, summer, fall

Basement's yours, have a ball

There's always room for you there

Really baby I don't care