I have become comfortably numb

And I can feel one of my turns coming on

And I feel cold as a razorblade

Tight as tourniquette and dry as funeral drum

Run to the bathroom, in the suitcase in the left you'll find my favorite axe

Don't look so frightened, this is just a passing phase

ONE OF MY BAD DAYS

Would you like to watch TV or get between the sheets or contemplate the silent freeway? 

Would you like something to eat? Would you like to learn to fly?

Would you like to see me try?

O que significam os tijolos n'O Muro (nas minhas palavras): 

1. Cada vez que alguém se silencia em benefício de outra pessoa; 

2. Cada vez que alguém se silencia por medo de estender a mão e pedir ajuda; 

3. Cada vez que alguém se silencia por não saber como estender a mão e pedir ajuda; 

4. Cada vez que alguém sente que poderia receber ajuda, mas não existe ninguém disposto a estender a mão;

5. Cada vez que alguém chega ao limite de si mesmo, mas nunca tem a coragem de fazer o último corte; 

6. Cada vez que alguém tem seus sentimentos diminuídos por quaisquer motivos; 

7. Cada noite passada na companhia de nada além dos próprios pensamentos; 

a movement is accomplished in six stages and the seventh brings return

Dear Emily,

I've watched you run around trees wearing that gown that touches the ground for way too many years now. I've watched you frown and borrow dreams when me and Syd knew it was enough to just keep up with yours and yours only. You've been living somebody else's life and seeing things from somebody else's perspective. Meanwhile, people have playing their free games to try and get to you, but if I may be honest is not your play they wish to see. They want everything they can take from you. And while they take it, you remain silent. Hardly a sound until tomorrow. These nights of your have been wild, haven't they? You've been playing around town. You've been talking to strangers and walking through all those means streets trying to find yourself and you kept forgetting that it's you in those old notes from your favorite song. You know, the one which's sort of a second part to the song that has your name on it. Jugband Blues. It feels weird, doesn't it? To wonder who could be writing this. To reach the point where you're so lost in your own ground that you don't even recognize the person starring at you at the mirror. Well, there is something I can tell you, dear Emily: I am you and what you see is me. Together we'll borrow somebody's dreams until tomorrow and keep on being watched by all those meaningless people we will always love. We keep playing. We keep living. We keep crying and gazzing and writing because it's all there is to know. I embrace you now, Emily. 

Eu sei que isso não fez sentido, mas afinal me encontrar em Pink Floyd nunca fez. Hoje eu tive one of my turns Uma daquelas que faz respirar ser uma coisa difícil, pesada e insustentável. Hoje foi mais um tijolo no muro que eu tanto tento escalar, mas continuo sem forças para chegar ao topo e encarar o outro lado. É difícil ser sufocada pelo muro, mas não mais difícil do que admitir que eu preciso de ajuda ou pedí-la. Eu estou me perdendo como Emily em seus jogos e me cansando como Maggie e suas batalhas infinitas. Just tired and hopeless and not strong enough to carry on. Foi mal pelo desabafo.