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Esquecer o sabor de uma pele, o gosto de um beijo, o arrepio aconchegante do suor libertado nos lencóis que atrapalham. Viver de olhos fechados para a carícia prometedora, o olhar rendido, a troca de posições num campo de batalha onde o inimigo é o fim. Voltar atrás. Riscar da memória o cheiro intenso das horas intensas, as marcas pintadas e as roupas arruinadas. Parar de caminhar. Libertar os pulmões sem que se soltem as palavras ditas em tom ofegante, os risos ansiosos daquilo que ainda estava para vir, o ar consumido em dobro ou em triplo. Sossegar. Esperar pelo dia seguinte. Esperar pelo sussurrar no ouvido de novas vertigens que adivinhem o futuro, que fiquem no futuro, que esqueçam o caminho de volta. Tocar de novo. Apostar no escuro sem hesitar, sem considerar a palavra perder, sem olhar para trás porque de lá nada se trouxe. Construir. Com um pouco mais de um corpo. (Oldmirror)

I've got six things on my mind you're no longer one of them
Desire as a self-figured creature who changes her mind ?
They were the best times, the harvest years with jam to lace the bread
So goodness, goodness knows why I'd throw it to the birds
But there it is, and there we are
And all I ever want to be is far from the eyes that ask me
In whose bed you gonna be and is it true you only see
Desire as a self-figured creature who changes her mind ?
It's perfect as it stands so why then crush it in your perfect hands ?
Desire as a self-figured creature who changes her mind ?
I've got six things on my mind you're no longer one of them
So tell me you must have thought it all out in advance
Or goodness, goodness knows why you'd throw it to the birds
You mock the good things, you play the heart strings, play them one by one
But there it is, and there we are
And all I ever want to be is far from the eyes that ask me
In whose bed you gonna be and is it true you only see
Desire as a self-figured creature who changes her mind ?

- Paddy McAloon