someoneneedstobeheard

                                                                       November, some day

there´s a new blog to read all my posts this one is gonna dissapear in month maybe i don´t yet

see ya at http://someoneneedstobeheard.blogspot.com/

                                                                   sincerely, Mr Moustache

Better live with an answer that suffer with a doubt

                                                                                November, 9th

I´m a bit hot-headed. I lost the journey of November 8th. Now I have to start again…

   A new day have just started. Or maybe not. Why do I have to follow the normal way of measuring time? who said this is how me must live? why a minute is sixty seconds and not a hundred? i´m sure there´s a reason but sincerely I don´t want to Google it…

I don´t know why but today I cannot define my mood. people who read this would think i´m a fucking emo who doesn't´t deserves a place at this world. Well SURPRISE!! i´m not an emo jajaja. Maybe I have something from Elmo but that´s another topic I will explain other day. returning to my mood, i was saying that today I cannot define it, whether I´m happy or not I always write sad and depressing things. In a way I want to change that, but if you think a bit about this, it´s better have a realistic view of real life. I cannot understand why people searches happiness. we don´t have to mix desires with needs. happiness comes alone if you appreciate the things you have. Of course you´ll always have desires, that´s something you cannot get away with. But do not let desires dominates you.

well basically that´s all I have to say for now. Maybe “your” tomorrow I´ll post something else. To me July had never ended…

Good night, sleep tight.. There´s no time to loose time, so if you need to say something to someone please say it, it´s better to live with an answer that suffer with a doubt.

                                                                  Sincerely, Mr Moustache

The reason of being so selfish

                                                                      November, 4th

    I´m not in my mood today. Wherever I see, I see her. I´m tired of thinking she´s the one. I´m tired of being so rational, tired of forgive people who don´t deserve even a shot. The worst of missing you is that I know nothing could bring you back to my life. No one could say to me what to do or what´s the reason of being so selfish that for the only reason I want you here with me is because of the kind of guy I am when you´re with me, surrounding me with you beautiness, your voice, your sweet smell of nothing, your essence your soul...

    Nobody knows who you are, what you were used to do. So my question is... are you the owner of your faith? you can talk to me, if you´re lonely you can talk to me, because you think you know me but you don´t got even a clue!

Nowadays you never know what is and what should never be. Jimmi´s Page guitar is the only sound I wanna hear. I look around the park and the only thing I see is old men feeding birds, like in a black and white movie.

   I don´t know what to write now so I think I´ll just go on writing...

LIFE IS LIKE A BOX OF CHOCOLATES.. No wait! that phrase is from a movie.. then..

SHIT HAPPENS!!  OOh not again! we are slaves of our silences and owners of our words... Or was it in another way? see! school makes you think in the wrong way. You don´t need a qualification to know if you´re clever or smart. In the end you will use your smartness to crap n somebody´s food.

   I´m running out of ink so HELLO, GOODBYE!! LIVE LONG AND PROSPER! HAPPY MICHAEL JACKSON´S DAY! EAT SHIT, CRAP FOOD AND YOU´LL NEVER BE HUNGRY AGAIN!!

so to sum up if you´re tired of your life, search another hobbie, put some music and

                             GO FUCK YOURSELF!!!!

                                                                                                                                                                    Sincerely, Mr Moustache  

Breakfast in America

Take a look at my girlfriend
Cos She's the only one I've got
Not much of a girlfriend
Never seem to get a lot

Take a jumbo 'cross the water
Like to see America
See the girls in California
I'm hoping it's going to come true
But there's not a lot I can do

Could we have kippers for breakfast
Mummy dear, Mummy dear
They've got to have them in Texas
Because everyone's a millionaire

I'm a winner, I'm a sinner
Do you want my autograph
I'm a loser, what a joker
I'm playing my jokes upon you
While there's nothing better to do

Don't you look at my girlfriend
For She's the only one I got
Well Not much of a girlfriend
But Never seem to get a lot
What you got? Not a lot

Take a jumbo cross the water
Like to see America
See the girls in California
I'm hoping it's going to come true
But there's not a lot I can do

IF

If I were a swan, I'd be gone.
If I were a train, I'd be late.
And if I were a good man, I'd talk with you more often than I do.
If I were to sleep, I could dream.
If I were afraid, I could hide.
If I go insane, please don't put your wires in my brain.
If I were the moon, I'd be cool.
If I were a book, I would bend.
If I were a good man, I'd understand the spaces between friends.
If I were alone, I would cry.
And if I were with you, I'd be home and dry.
And if I go insane, will you still let me join in with the game?
If I were a swan, I'd be gone.
If I were a train, I'd be late again.
If I were a good man, I'd talk to you more often than I do.

Train roll on, on down the line,
Won't you please take me far away?
Now I feel the wind blow outside my door,
Means I'm leaving my woman behind.
Tuesday's gone with the wind.
My woman's gone with the wind.


And I don't know where I'm going.
I just want to be left alone.
Well, when this train ends I'll try again,
But I'm leaving my woman at home.


Tuesday's gone with the wind.
Tuesday's gone with the wind.
Tuesday's gone with the wind.
My woman's gone with the wind.


Train roll on many miles from my home,
See, I'm riding my blues away.
Tuesday, you see, she had to be free
But somehow I've got to carry on.

You belong to me..

see the pyramids around the Nile


watch the sunrise from a tropic isle

just remember darling all the while -

you belong to me



see the marketplace in old Angier


send me photographs and souvenirs


just remember when a dream appears -


you belong to me



and I'll be so alone without you

maybe you'll be lonesome too



fly the ocean in a silver plane

see the jungle when it's wet with rain

just remember till you're home again -

you belong to me



oh I'll be so alone without you

maybe you'll be lonesome too



fly the ocean in a silver plane

see the jungle when it's wet with rain

just remember till you're home again -

you belong to me

Misty mountain hop

Walkin' in the park just the other day, baby,
What do you, what do you think I saw?
Crowds of people sittin' on the grass with flowers in their hair said,
"Hey, Boy, do you wanna score?"
And you know how it is.
I really don't know what time it was, woh, oh,oh
so I asked them if I could stay a while.

I didn't notice but it had got very dark and I was really
Really out of my mind.
Just then a policeman stepped up to me and asked us, said, "Please,hey,
would we care to all get in line, Get in line."
Well, you know, they asked us to stay for tea and have some fun; Oh, oh,oh.
he said that his friends would all drop by, ooh.

Why don't you take a good look at yourself and describe what you see,
and baby, baby, baby, do you like it?
There you sit, sitting spare like a book on a shelf rustin',
ah, not trying to fight it.
You really don't care if they're comin'; oh, oh,
I know that it's all a state of mind.

If you go down in the streets today, baby, you better,
you better open your eyes. WOAH WOAH YEAH
Folk down there really don't care, really don't care, don't care , really don't , which, which way the pressure lies,
so I've decided what I'm gonna do now.
So I'm packing my bags for the Misty Mountains
where the spirits go now,
over the hills where the spirits fly.
I really don't know.

Creo que con una canción
la tristeza es más hermosa.
Creo que con una palabra
puedo decir mil cosas.
Pero no creo en el circo
de la información.
Toda decanta en tu amor
y en mi dolor.

Creo que es mejor morir de pie
que vivir de rodillas.
Creo que el viento me alcanzó
el olor de tu mejilla.
Creo en mi guitarra, creo en el
sol (si me cura las heridas),
Creo en tu voz.

Creo en la vida, en la noche,
en tu alma y no creo
en todo lo demás.
Creo en tu estrella,
en aquella que busco
en mi sueño mejor
para poder luchar.

Creo en esas tarde que viví
jugando a la pelota.
Creo que educar
es combatir
y el silencio
no es mi idioma.
Creo en tu sonrisa,
creo en mí si te veo hoy
y me pedís que no
me rinda,
sigo por vos.

Creo en la lluvia cuando cambia
el olor de mi tierra.
Creo en el mar
cuando amanece
abrazándose a las
piedras.
Creo en los jazmines
que un Dios me bajó
esa vez, para poder
conocerte como mujer.

memorias de un suicidio

La tv prendida en un canal sin trasmisión. El despertador sonando y marcando las 8 de la mañana. Marcando el comienzo de otro día monótono, como cualquier otro. Me levanto y voy al baño. Me miro al espejo y veo a un desconocido, alguien que no es feliz desde hace mucho tiempo, un ente. Alguien a quien la noche le cambio el rostro. El traje de siempre. El desayuno de todos los días. “Embotellamiento en la 9 de julio”, me recuerda Mactas de fondo, como de costumbre. Me subo el auto y arranco. Llego a la oficina media hora después. Papeles en el escritorio y una taza de café de ayer que me olvidé de sacar. Abro la cuenta de e-mail. Son 169 de los cuales 150 son basura. Porque habré elegido este trabajo tan tedioso me pregunto. A fin de cuentas uno elige como afrontar su propia vida, si apostar a una vida llena de responsabilidades o ser parte de la masa que pasa toda su vida escondida por miedo a fracasar que termina trabajando ocho horas diarias encerrada en un cubículo de cuatro plásticos que no merecen ser llamados paredes, donde lo único que hace es escribir en la computadora números que ni siquiera sabe de que son. Y así es como uno llega a atentar contra su propia vida. Como tantas veces pensé en lo que va de la mía. Sin nadie a quien amar, nadie con quien hablar, nada emocionante que hacer…

Se hizo de noche. Llego a mi casa y pongo a calentar la pava para hacer una sopa de sobrecito, esas viscosas con sabor a espárragos que la gente toma cuando no tiene hambre que no es mi caso. La tomo únicamente porque es lo único no vencido en mi alacena. Prendo la tv en el canal de las noticias. Robos, muertes, asesinatos, violaciones, tiroteos, lo de todos los días. Voy al baño y saco el frasco de pastillas para dormir. “El consumo diario y desmedido es perjudicial para la salud provocando incluso, la muerte”. Me tomo cinco. Prendo el equipo de música y pongo “la grasa de las capitales” de serú giran. Empiezo a dormitar al son de “Viernes 3 A.M”. “y llevas el caño a tu sien, apretando bien las muelas. Y cierras los ojos y ves todo mar en primavera bang, bang, bang hojas muertas que caen, siempre igual, los que no pueden mas, se van”.....

Vie en Rose

Hold me close and hold me fast
The magic spell you cast
This is la vie en rose

When you kiss me heaven sighs
And tho I close my eyes
I see la vie en rose

When you press me to your heart
I'm in a world apart
A world where roses bloom

And when you speak...angels sing from above
Everyday words seem...to turn into love songs

Give your heart and soul to me
And life will always be
La vie en rose