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