António Charrua (Portuguese, b. 1925), Untitled, 1998. Oil on canvas, 130 x 194 cm.
Boy, sometimes when she wakes up I don’t even know what mood she might be in. Some days she’s soup, some days she’s stew. Sometimes she wake up happy, like a baby phoenix. Sometimes she be so sad she’ll wanna spend time alone. Then it like she pushing her fingers down her throat to point at her heart. But she still sweet and sexy. I can see she working at her smile. But still there sadness there. Cos smiles take both. And I know her life been hard. But with coffee on her breath she said we’ll make it. Sometimes she’ll lose herself to the beats of the music, sometimes she like a little drink. Two of us for tomorrow. One for today. I can’t help that sorrow’s stronger than pain.
Kind Midas Sound - Sometimes
'Probably badly quoted by me. Couldn’t catch everything.'
i’ve added some alterations