bluebells

• hüzünlü ve fakat havai fişeklerle süslü patrick wolf şarkısı.
  
  lucy remember,
  the smell of that fall,
  the fires of fungus,
  and the rotting leaves,
  i fell off the wagon,
  into your arms,
  into this long month of sundays,
  you were my husband,
  my wife,
  my heroine,
  now this is our final december,
  now deep in a forest,
  losing all thought of spring,
  and nothing can help me remember,
  
  and i'm going nowhere fast,
  a darker day has hold at last,
  deep in a dream,
  i set the converse to spinning,
  and your love has come too late,
  i wait from the garden gate,
  wake me up,
  when the bluebells are ringing,
  
  now that it's over,
  after all that we had,
  a river runs through the rafters,
  down, down, down,
  so leave me sleeping,
  dreaming only of spring,
  and a phone rings out and i remember,
  
  but i'm going nowhere fast,
  a darker day has hold at last,
  deep in a dream,
  i set the converse to spinning,
  and your love has come too late,
  now wave to the garden gate,
  wake me up,
  when the bluebells are ringing,
  
  ringing,
  ringing out,
  ringing,
  when i hear them ringing my love,
  when i hear them ringing,
• şu performansına bayıldığım patrick wolf şaheseri. bu şarkı bende kendisine ayrı bir hayranlık uyandırıyor. belki kendinden belki sözlerden belki müzikten. en çok hepsinin bir arada olmasından ama.
  
  " you were my husband my wife my heroine "
  
  ne yapıyorsun sen patrick! yazıktır bana, dedirtiyor.