Tác giả : Sophie B. Hawkins
Người đăng : administrator, 14 năm trước
a silent woman parts her lips 
to speak before she ought 
she makes a cross of her emotions 
and a panic of her thoughts 
out of her mouth she comes in rages 
like vesuvius in heat 
she runs ahead of her intentions 
though she’s programmed for defeat 
 
by the hunger and the hatred 
the prostitution of her nature 
she has given and forgiven for to give her 
kunt forgave her 
to the longing for a loving hand 
or fist or cock or spike 
but you know you cannot reach her 
’til she’s taken back her life 
 
a lonely child of fourteen 
finds her future in a drum 
she plays for present day omissions 
and for whom she must become 
out of her passion breaks the stillness 
of a solitary mind 
a strict devotion to the rhythm 
with a substitute for time 
 
she looks out of her window 
at the changes in the sky 
she never wants to leave her sanctuary 
bedroom books and lies 
but she’s grown up on the outside 
with an instinct for the pain 
that drives the men inside her wild 
and women wanting her insane 
 
both lovers bring their cameras 
to the beach on new year’s eve 
they are expecting nothing other 
than to see what they believe 
four feet walking toward the lighthouse 
in the freezing winter rain 
she flashes stately in the distance 
humming her somnolent refrain 
 
you are here now you are here now 
there is nothing left to fear now 
with each step the sunk is sinking 
though the truth is less unclear now 
they have won a thousand battles 
they have wrung their own demise 
now they are standing still and weeping 
for a love they can’t despise 
 
a silent woman and a lonely child 
have nowhere else to go 
but to the lighthouse in december 
before the new year takes its toll 
they have found inside each other 
what they had lost within themselves 
now they are bonded to forever 
in their search for something else 
 
generations like the water 
shape the face of every stone 
a pedigree’s an invitation 
to discover you’re alone 
out in the kitchen or the courtyard 
or the bedroom or the bank 
it only takes a fateful moment 
to become the one you thank 
 
and light shall lift them 
higher and higher 
and dreams shall carry them on 
and loss shall lead them 
to life’s final hour 
where death shall overcome