The sound of silence

Hello darkness, my old friend
I’ve come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence

In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
‘Neath the halo of a street lamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence

And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people maybe more
People talking without speaking
People hearing without listening
People writing songs that voices never shared
No one dared
Disturb the sound of silence

“Fools,” said I, “you do not know
Silence like a cancer grows
Hear my words that I might teach you
Take my arms that I might reach you”
But my words like silent raindrops fell
And echoed in the wells of silence

And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming
And the sign said “The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls
And whispered in the sound of silence

Anúncios

ao som de Lazarus, de Bowie

Muitos artigos hoje recordam os passos da história de David Bowie, alguns com uma escrita notável, como “Morreu David Bowie, um dos maiores ícones da cultura popular”, no Público.

Mais do que da música, apesar de gostar muito de (algumas das) músicas, sempre apreciei o estilo, de homem livre, adiante e à margem do seu tempo, provocador, “o camaleão”, a desafiar os estereótipos e os rótulos, que o fixássemos nesta ou naquela fase.

Collage bowie

Lazarus

Look up here, I’m in heaven

I’ve got scars that can’t be seen

I’ve got drama, can’t be stolen

Everybody knows me now

Look up here, man, I’m in danger

I’ve got nothing left to lose

I’m so high it makes my brain whirl

Dropped my cell phone down below

Ain’t that just like me

By the time I got to New York

I was living like a king

Then I used up all my money

I was looking for your ass

This way or no way

You know, I’ll be free

Just like that bluebird

Now ain’t that just like me

Oh I’ll be free

Just like that bluebird

Oh I’ll be free

Ain’t that just like me

 

RIP David Bowie

David Robert Jones, aka David Bowie [Brixton, Londres, 8 de janeiro de 1947 – 10 de janeiro de 2016].

O primeiro tema que me interessou, nos idos de 74. Young Americans

O sempre Absolute Begginers

Ashes to Ahshes, no álbum de 1980 Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps)

As The World falls down (Labyrinth soundtrack)

e Under Pressure

“À medida que envelhecemos, as perguntas resumem-se a duas ou três. Quanto tempo mais? E o que é que eu vou fazer com o tempo que me resta?”