Under the Gun - The Killers

She's got her halo and wings
Hidden under his eyes
But she's an angel for sure
She just can't stop telling lies
But it's too late for his love
Already caught in a trap
His angel's kiss was a joke
And she is not coming back

Because heaven sends and heaven takes
Crashing cars in his brain
Keep him tied up to a dream
And only she can set him free
And then he says to me

Kill me now, kill me now, kill me now, kill me now
Kill me now, kill me now, kill me now, kill me now

Yeah she's got a criminal mind
He's got a reason to pray
His life is under the gun
He's got to hold every day

Now he just wants to wake up
Yeah, just to prove it's a dream
Cause she's an angel for sure
But that remains to be seen

Because heaven sends and heaven takes
Crashing cars in his brain
Keep him tied up to a dream
And only she can set him free
And then he says to me

Kill me now, kill me now, kill me now, kill me now
Kill me now, kill me now, kill me now, kill me now

Stupid on the streets of London
James Dean in the rain
Without her it's not the same
The same, the same, but it's alright

Because heaven sends and heaven takes
Crashing cars in his brain
Keep him tied up to a dream
And only she can set him free
And then he says to me

Kill me now, kill me now, kill me now, kill me now
Kill me now, kill me now, kill me now, kill me now
Again and again

All These Things I've Done - The Killers

Vício!



When there's nowhere else to run
Is there room for one more son?
One more son
If you can hold on
If you can hold on, hold on

I wanna stand up, I wanna let go
You know, you know, no you don't, you don't
I wanna shine on, in the hearts of men
I want a meaning from the back of my broken hand

Another head aches, another heart breaks
I'm so much older than I can take
And my affection, well it comes and goes
I need direction to perfection, no no no no

Help me out, yeah
You know you gotta help me out, yeah
Oh, don't you put me on the back burner
You know you gotta help me out, yeah

And when there's nowhere else to run
Is there room for one more son?
These changes ain't changing me
The cold hearted boy I used to be

Yeah, you know you gotta help me out, yeah
Oh don't you put me on the back burner
You know you gotta help me out, yeah
You're gonna bring yourself down, yeah
You're gonna bring yourself down, yeah
You're gonna bring yourself down

I got soul, but I'm not a soldier
I got soul, but I'm not a soldier
I got soul, but I'm not a soldier
I got soul, but I'm not a soldier

I got soul, but I'm not a soldier
I got soul, but I'm not a soldier
I got soul, but I'm not a soldier
I got soul, but I'm not a soldier

I got soul, but I'm not a soldier
I got soul, but I'm not a soldier
(Time, truth, and hearts)

Yeah, you know you gotta help me out, yeah
Oh don't you put me on the back burner
You know you gotta help me out, yeah

You're gonna bring yourself down, yeah
You're gonna bring yourself down, yeah
Oh don't you put me on the back burner
You're gonna bring yourself down, yeah
You're gonna bring yourself down

Over and in, last call for sin
While everyone's lost, the battle is won
With all these things that I've done

All these things that I've done
(Time, truth, and hearts)
If you can hold on
If you can hold on

Uma noite qualquer

Música. Música distante. Um som conhecido. "California Dreamin", remix de Royal Gigolos. Pessoas que riem. Despreocupadas. Imagina-se que dançam sem se importar com o horário, com as obrigações, com os vizinhos. Gargalhadas, gritos e mais gargalhadas. Uma tentativa de cantar em coro uma letra que na verdade não interessa.
Na cama. Sem sono. Mil pensamentos que vem e vão. Início de ano. Enquanto as pessoas festejam como se não houvesse amanhã, alguém pensa exatamente nele. A respiração falta um pouco. O quarto parece pequeno, sufocante. Medo de ser mais uma daquelas longas noites nas quais a filosofia vence o sono.
Uma voz: "Mãe, não consigo dormir". Outra reforça: "este som vai me matar". Ao descobrir que outros estão no mesmo barco, de repente o quarto parece mais cheio. Não somente ele, mas também o coração. Enche-se de algo. Sabe-se lá de quê. Uma alma um pouco menos solitária, um pouco mais tranquila.
E o sono chega de mansinho.
Mais música. Risadas. Sons. Cheiros. Clarões.
Um rojão que acorda. E outro. A cada despertar novas lembranças. Músicas que despertam um passado não tão distante.
Uma viagem a um momento. Indistinto. Um fone no ouvido, muitos sonhos na mente. Não foi há tanto tempo. Músicas dançadas no meio da sala, no quarto, em qualquer lugar. No transporte público apenas os pés mexiam, enquanto o som maltratava os tímpanos.
Hoje tudo parece mais proibido. Mais vergonhoso. Menos espontâneo.
A música, no entanto, mantém seu poder de relembrar, reviver. Resgatar na memória os doces pedaços dessa aventura que é viver.