Bright eyes
Det finns nätter jag aldrig vill somna.
Jag är rädd för att vakna till något helt annat.
Att livet inte är som det var innan jag somnat kvällen innan.
Det finns så mycket saker jag värdesätter här i livet.
Som hösten och vintern.
Inte bara för att jag tycker dem är så vackra i sin dysterhet.
Utan för att den där melankoliska känslan alltid infinner sig.
Fast med ro.
Det är då man ska krypa under täcket med en underbar bok och läsa tills man stupar.
Eller lyssna på Bright eyes.
"The rain, it started tapping on the window near my bed.
There was a loophole in my dreaming, so I got out of it.
And to my surprise my eyes were wide and already open.
Just my nightstand and my dresser where those nightmares had just been.
So I dressed myself and left them, out into the gray streets.
But everything seemed different and completely new to me.
The sky, the trees, houses, buildings, even my own body.
And each person I encountered, I couldn't wait to meet.
And I came upon a doctor who appeared in quite poor health.
I said "there is nothing that I can do for you that you can't do
for yourself."
He said "Oh yes you can. Just hold my hand. I think that would help.
" So I sat with him a while and then I asked him how he felt.
He said, "I think I'm cured. In fact, I'm sure.
Thank you stranger, for your
therapeutic smile."
So that is how I learned the lesson that everyone is alone.
And your eyes must do some raining if you are ever going to grow.
But when crying don't help and you can't compose yourself.
It is best to compose a poem, an honest verse of longing or a simple song of hope. That is why I'm singing...
Baby don't worry cause now I got your back.
And every time you feel like crying, I'm gonna try and make you laugh.
And if I can't, if it just hurts too bad, then we will wait for it to pass,
and I will keep you company through those days so long and black.
And we'll just keep working on the problem we know we'll never solve of Love's uneven remainder,
our lives are fractions of a whole.
But if the world could remain within a frame like a painting on a wall.
Then I think we would see the beauty then.
We would stand staring in awe at our still lives posed like a bowl of oranges, like a story told by the fault lines and the soil."
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