Blog de xdArk-ang3l - Sur moi tu as tiré, moi qui n'ai pas osé!...

Sur moi tu as tiré, moi qui n'ai pas osé! Quel sanglant présent de ta part bel amant, une rivière de diamants en forme de balles rouges sang!

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"Just to say we're sorry,
For the black eyes and bleeding lips.
When it's hard to forget
How many lies we've told.

Oh, how we go,
Before I said goodbye.
So let's scrape our knees on the playground.

It's not your fault,
You feel okay.
It's too late in the day.
It's not your fault,
You feel betrayed.
You can't come out to play.

I never listened to a word you never said.
I never listened to a word you never said.

Wasting the hours now,
We're all suckers for tragedies.
We'll start things over again,
And you'll bring us to our knees.

When sunrise comes,
And the story will sell,
There'll be a hundred papers,
So we'll fight all you want.

It's not your fault,
You feel okay.
It's too late in the day.
It's not your fault,
You feel betrayed.
You can't come out to play.

I never listened to a word you never said.
I never listened to a word you never said.

So raise your hands up high
And let this rain pour.
So raise your hands up high
And wash us away.

We still have got each other.

You look just like your mother.
You look just like your father.
Forgive me, my father,
The sun is smiling,
So let roses be red?"

Roses For The Dead
Funeral For A Friend

Graver l'écorce jusqu'à saigner
Clouer les portes, s'emprisonner
Vivre des songes à trop veiller
Prier des ombres et tant marcher
J'ai beau me dire qu'il faut du temps
J'ai beau l'écrire si noir sur blanc

Quoi que je fasse, où que je sois
Rien ne t'efface, je pense à toi
Et quoi que j'apprenne, je ne sais pas
Pourquoi je saigne et pas toi

Passent les jours, vides sillons
Dans la raison et sans amour
Passe ma chance, tournent les vents
Reste l'absence, obstinément
J'ai beau me dire que c'est comme ça
Que sans vieillir, on n'oublie pas

Quoi que je fasse, où que je sois
Rien ne t'efface, je pense a toi
Et quoi que j'apprenne, je ne sais pas
Pourquoi je saigne et pas toi

Y a pas de haine, y a pas de roi
Ni dieu ni chaîne, qu'on ne combat
Mais que faut-il, quelle puissance
Quelle arme brise l'indifférence ?
Oh c'est pas juste, c'est mal écrit
Comme une injure, plus qu'un mépris

Et quoi que j'apprenne, je ne sais pas
Pourquoi je saigne et pas toi

Pas toi
Jean-Jacques Goldman

Isis.. </3
Miss U

xx-nueva-vida-xx@hotmail.fr

anglais

The narrator is the mother of the family.
Everyone'sb ehaviouhr as alteredf or the worse.
At school, Jordan has been lashing out at other kids, even the bigger ones. He
puncheda nd kickedD ebbieS ufflingw ho,t hought alla nd strong-lookinga,c tuallyh as a blood
conditionth atm eanss he mustn otb e hit.
Julie Edmunds, his teacher, sent Jordan straight to the head's office where he sat
stony-eyeda nd sullena nd refusingt o say sorry.T hat'sw hat Juliet ells us whenw e go in to
see her - that it's not the incidenti tselfb ut his total lack of remorsea bouti t that she takes
most seriously.
l'm sure he's sorry, Mick tells her. He's just too proud to say it.
We don'te ncourageth at sorl of pridei n this school,J ulies ays.W e try to encourage
childrento respecto thersa nd put the truthf irst.
And she eyes Liv'sb uggy' and I know what she'st hinking.w hat'ss he doingw ith
anotherb abya t her age whens he can'te venc ontrotlh e oness he'sa lreadyg ot?
But it's not just Jordan.R osa,w ho'sl ouda nd difficulta t home but normallya n angel
at school- so good and conscientioutsh at she will literallys weat if she doesn'tg et her
homework done on time - has lost her pen, her PE kit and half of her books, and been in
troublem oret hano ncef ort alkingin assembly.
Our Rosa? Mick says. Talking in assembly?
Not onlyt hat,b ut her shoelacesa re fraying,h er shirt'sp erpetuallsyp latteredw ithi nk,
her fingers are grubby and her arms covered in strange itchy spots which she picks till they
bleed. -â
Who'st hrowingin ka t you,R ose?| askh er.S omeone'fsli cl& it at you,a ren'tth ey?
i;i#:fffii3:fsi"a fvrsar rrtv e aks
Shem akesa n uglyf acea t me. ,æ 6#ffif fi ffi
AItn'dnst ho eMs tp oàtsr- iIa wo,n derif thev'refl ea@ffiyffi1ffiffit Mariaa fleac ollarI, say.
ffiilfffi'#ffiffiffi,"
WW;''v NtËon,tio tht is!
Well, what's bil
45
I don'kt nows, hes aysf firffitWriybeZ
In November?
Leave me alone, she sayYi'm fine, OK?
Whati s it? I ask herw hen she burstsi ntos uddent ears.W hat'st he matter,d arting?
But she won'tt alkt o me,j ust stompsu pstairsH. alfa n hourl aterl find hera sleepo n
her bed with the kitten purring on her chest.
And then there'sN at. I'll ask him to do a simplet hingt ikee mptyt he dishwasheorr
tidy his room or eat an egg on toast or remove his school blazer from where he just lets it
dropi n the halla nd he'lli mmediatelay ttackm e.
why do you insist on making my life hell? he screams.
l'm surpriseda t how muchl want to hith im- l, who'ven everl aida fingero n my kids.
How can Nat- oncet he sunnieste, asiestb oy (fare asieri n manyw ayst hant he otheri wo) -
have turned into this monster? He sits in his room with the cudains shut and something
electroniicn hish and.H e slouchesa roundt he housec omplainingA.n d thent here'sth ef ood
thing.
OK, I say as he pushes his plate away, why aren't you eating? lt had better be good.
You- know- | - hate- scrambled- eggs.
I don't know that at all.
Itold you. Last time. I hate the skin on them.
What skin? There isn't a skin -
There is, look. And he pokes with the edge of his fork.
Eatt hem,b oy,M ic.Ja<d visess oftlyf romb ehindh is paper.
Oh God!N atw ails3l,e ttingh ish eads inki ntoh ish ands.l 'llt hrowu p, l'llb e sick.

# Posté le mercredi 04 novembre 2009 12:24

Sur moi tu as tiré, moi qui n'ai pas osé! Quel sanglant présent de ta part bel amant, une rivière de diamants en forme de balles rouges sang!

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