Clementine

Clementine was born not to be, born not to love like you and me.

No one’s ever seen her cry, but hidden in her eyes is a whole quite scene.

Clementine walks around at night, talks in the moonlight into sleep.

Wakes out slowly, taking her time, so she has no one to meet.

No one wonders where she’s from. If she’s ever had someone of her own. She is just a part of the scene. A part of you and me.

Clementine reads all day long, makes stories alone, so she’s not all alone.

No one wonders where she’s from. If she’s ever had someone of her own. She is just a part of the scene. Part of you and me.

Clementine was born not to be.


( Hoje acordei com um mau pressentimento! Não se passou nada... )