Otros Ejercicios
Messes Of Men 
Hard
de MewithoutYou
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I do not exist, but faithfully insist
Sailing in our ships
and from each tiny caravelle
Tiring and trying there's unnecessary dying
like the horseshoe crab in its proper seasons sheds its shell
Such distance our friends
like a across a lens,
made everything look wrong from anywhere we stood
and our away before we'd the bay,
so half-blind we wrote these songs on sheets of salty wood
me eyes at the boatman's wives,
and heard me laughing louder at the told by daughters
I'd set my course for land,
but you understand
it takes a hand to navigate waters
The propeller's blades acquaintance with the waves
as there's mistakes I've made no rowing outrun
The on the mast like to say I've got no past
but I'm nonetheless the librarian and secretary's son
with tarnish on my brass and mildew on my glass,
I'd never someone so crass as to someone like me
but a few leagues off the shore, I bit a lure
and I assure you, it was not what I expected it to be!
I taste its kiss, that dull hook in my lip
is a memory as useless as a rod without a reel
To an anchor ever-dropped, seasick yet still docked
napping with his first mate at the wheel,
floating forgetfully along, with no need to be strong
We keep our confessions long and when we pray we keep it short
I drank a full of fire and I'm not coming back
Oh, my God!
I do not exist we insist
watching sink the ship of we knew
If you near I'll hold up high a mirror
Lord, I never show you anything as beautiful as You
Sailing in our ships
and from each tiny caravelle
Tiring and trying there's unnecessary dying
like the horseshoe crab in its proper seasons sheds its shell
Such distance our friends
like a across a lens,
made everything look wrong from anywhere we stood
and our away before we'd the bay,
so half-blind we wrote these songs on sheets of salty wood
me eyes at the boatman's wives,
and heard me laughing louder at the told by daughters
I'd set my course for land,
but you understand
it takes a hand to navigate waters
The propeller's blades acquaintance with the waves
as there's mistakes I've made no rowing outrun
The on the mast like to say I've got no past
but I'm nonetheless the librarian and secretary's son
with tarnish on my brass and mildew on my glass,
I'd never someone so crass as to someone like me
but a few leagues off the shore, I bit a lure
and I assure you, it was not what I expected it to be!
I taste its kiss, that dull hook in my lip
is a memory as useless as a rod without a reel
To an anchor ever-dropped, seasick yet still docked
napping with his first mate at the wheel,
floating forgetfully along, with no need to be strong
We keep our confessions long and when we pray we keep it short
I drank a full of fire and I'm not coming back
Oh, my God!
I do not exist we insist
watching sink the ship of we knew
If you near I'll hold up high a mirror
Lord, I never show you anything as beautiful as You
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