09.Nov.07
Here Comes The Flood
João Távora
When the night shows the signals grow on rádios All the strange things they come and go, as early warnings Stranded starfish have no place to hide still waiting for the swollen Easter tide There's no point in direction we cannot even choose a side. I took the old track the hollow shoulder, across the waters On the tall cliffs they were getting older, sons and daughters The jaded underworld was riding high Waves of steel (...)