Les Éclats De Mon Rire

A tua ausencia consome-me.

Once there was a man
who had a little too much time on his hands
he never stopped to think that he was getting older.
When his night came to an end
He tried to grasp for his last friend and pretend
That he could wish himself health on a four-leaf clover

He said is this the return to Oz?
The grass is dead, the gold is brown and the sky has claws
There's a wind-up man walking round and round
What once was Emerald City is now a crystal town

Its three o' clock in the morning
You get a phone call from the queen with a hundred heads
She says that they're all dead
She tried the last one on
It couldn't speak, fell off
And now she just wanders the halls
Thinking nothing, thinking nothing at all

She says is this the return to Oz?
The grass is dead, the gold is brown and the sky has claws
There's a wind-up man walking round and round
What once was Emerald City is now a crystal town

The wheelies are cutting pavement
and the Skeksis at the rave meant
to hide deep inside
their sunken faces
and their wild, rolling eyes
But their callous words reveal
That they can no longer feel
Love or sex appeal
The patchwork girl has come to cinch the deal

To return to Oz we've fled the world
With smiles and clenching jaws
Please help me friend from coming down
I've lost my place and now it can't be found
Is this the return to Oz?
The grass is dead, the gold is brown and the sky has claws
There's a wind-up man walking round and round
What once was Emerald City is now a crystal town

Scissor Sisters

(Just to you: follow the yellow brick road with me)

Que os desejos caibam todos no sapatinho (se possivel nos 2).

Viens-tu du ciel profond ou sors-tu de l'abîme,
Ô Beauté ? ton regard infernal et divin,
Verse confusément le bienfait et le crime,
Et l'on peut pour cela te comparer au vin.

Tu contiens dans ton oeil le couchant et l'aurore ;
Tu répands des parfums comme un soir orageux ;
Tes baisers sont un philtre et ta bouche une amphore
Qui font le héros lâche et l'enfant courageux.

Sors-tu du gouffre noir ou descends-tu des astres ?
Le Destin charmé suit tes jupons comme un chien;
Tu sèmes au hasard la joie et les désastres,
Et tu gouvernes tout et ne réponds de rien.

Tu marches sur des morts, Beauté, dont tu te moques ;
De tes bijoux l'Horreur n'est pas le moins charmant,
Et le Meurtre, parmi tes plus chères breloques,
Sur ton ventre orgueilleux danse amoureusement.

L'éphémère ébloui vole vers toi, chandelle,
Crépite, flambe et dit : Bénissons ce flambeau !
L'amoureux pantelant incliné sur sa belle
A l'air d'un moribond caressant son tombeau.

Que tu viennes du ciel ou de l'enfer, qu'importe,
Ô Beauté, monstre énorme, effrayant, ingénu !
Si ton oeil, ton souris, ton pied, m'ouvrent la porte
D'un Infini que j'aime et n'ai jamais connu ?

De Satan ou de Dieu, qu'importe ? Ange ou Sirène,
Qu'importe, si tu rends, – fée aux yeux de velours,
Rythme, parfum, lueur, ô mon unique reine ! –
L'univers moins hideux et les instants moins lourds.