I'll stand by you!

Por mais que você se sinta perdida, por alguns instantes você é uma das bases de alguém... sofrendo, ou não. E deve tirar forças e passar segurança com aquele lema ' tudo vai dar certo'. Dar certo porra nenhuma, porque não é sempre que dá não. E aí, como explicar?

Jú, lembrei de você:

Oh, Why you look so sad?
Tears are in your eyes
Come on and come to me now
Don't be ashamed to cry
Let me see you through
Cause I've seen the dark side too.
When the night falls on you
You don't know what to do
Nothing you confess
could make me love you less
I'll stand by you
I'll stand by you
Won't let nobody hurt you
I'll stand by you
So,
If you´re mad, get mad
Don't hold it all inside
Come on and talk to me now
But hey, what you've got to hide
I get angry too
But I'm a lot like you
When you're standing at the crossroads
Don't know which path to choose
Let me come along
Cause even if your wrong...
I'll stand by you
I'll stand by you
Won't let nobody hurt you
I'll stand by you
Take me in into your darkest hour
And I'll never desert you
I'll stand by you
And when,
When the night falls on you baby
You´re feeling all alone
Walking on your own
I'll stand by you
I'll stand by you
Won't let nobody hurt you
I'll stand by you
Take me in into your darkest hour
And I'll never desert you
I'll stand by you
I'll stand by you
Won't let nobody hurt you
I'll stand by you
Won't let nobody hurt you
I'll stand by you
I'll stand by you
Won't let nobody hurt you
I`ll stand by you

Ar!

Hora de cortar o cabelo e mudar a cor. O corpo pede mudança.
Hora de jogar coisas fora, de mudar a rotina do quarto. Ver sacolas cheias de passado indo pro lixo ( não quero pensar na possibilidade de reciclagem).
Hora de mudar a roupa, de tirar a roupa. Hora de trocar música, mudar a página. De buscar incansavelmente e de se conformar.
Hora de tocar o puteiro com aquele pingo de juízo.
Hora de comprar um tênis de cor diferente.
Hora de viajar, viajar, viajar.
Hora de ir a pé.
Hora de fazer amigos e ir descobrindo o íntimo alheio.
Hora de ver a noite.
Hora da possibilidade utópica.

Fim do ano sempre traz esse gosto piegas de mudança.