Rising...

A morte é uma libertação 

quando a dor tolhe os gestos 

e colhe de mansinho todas as flores com que me perfumas a existência. 

É então que saio de mim 

e me elevo 

ao sabEr do vento 

com o teu sabor na pele 

e nas mãos 

as palavras que nunca me ouviste.

I got caught in a storm

And carried away

I got turned, turned around

I got caught in a storm

That's what happened to me

So I didn't call

And you didn't see me for a while

I was rising up

Hitting the ground

And breaking and breaking

I was caught in a storm

Things were flying around

And doors were slamming

And windows were breaking

And I couldn't hear what you were saying

I was rising up

Hitting the ground

And breaking and breaking

Rising up

Gold In Them Hills

És ouro no meu reino de fantasia

nas florestas que percorro

encantada 

com o teu olhar de música

e no peito a saudade da tua voz na minha pele