Há uma imagem que me persegue. Porque ainda não consegui entender o verdadeiro sentido, apesar de pressentir que estou perto de apreender a ideia que subjaz às palavras. "Green Gloves", dos National, é uma imagem justa da ideia geral da canção. Belo hino à amizade, condição de possibilidade de existência através dos outros. O mais belo hino, porque fala dos amigos que se afastaram, por uma ou outra razão. O que é uma luva? Um pedaço de tecido que cobre uma mão, uma segunda pele - é esta a aproximação que faço ao sentido das palavras de Matt Berninger. Na impossibilidade de sermos outro, de vermos os vídeos que eles vêem, de entrarmos nas suas camas e amarmos em vez deles, cantamos a distância e o solipsismo a que estamos condenados. Não sabemos como eles são, como eles sentem, como eles nos sentem. A luva verde? Bizarria metafórica, que me persegue. O que são os amigos? Aquilo que nós gostávamos de ser, a luva separada da mão a que pertence?
Falling out of touch with all my
friends are somewhere getting wasted,
hope they’re staying glued together,
I have arms for them.
Take another sip of them,
it floats around and takes me over
like a little drop of ink in a glass of water
Get inside their clothes
with my green gloves
watch their videos, in their chairs.
Get inside their beds
with my green gloves
Get inside their heads, love their loves.
Cinderella through the room
I glide and swan cause I’m the best slow dancer
in the universe
Falling out of touch with all my
friends are somewhere getting wasted,
hope they’re staying glued together,
I have arms for them.
Get inside their clothes
with my green gloves
watch their videos, in their chairs.
Get inside their beds
with my green gloves
Get inside their heads, love their loves.
Now I hardly know them
and I’ll take my time
I’ll carry them over, and I’ll make them mine.
Get inside their clothes
with my green gloves
watch their videos, in their chairs.
Get inside their beds
with my green gloves
Get inside their heads, love their loves.
Falling out of touch with all my
friends are somewhere getting wasted,
hope they’re staying glued together,
I have arms for them.
Take another sip of them,
it floats around and takes me over
like a little drop of ink in a glass of water
Get inside their clothes
with my green gloves
watch their videos, in their chairs.
Get inside their beds
with my green gloves
Get inside their heads, love their loves.
Cinderella through the room
I glide and swan cause I’m the best slow dancer
in the universe
Falling out of touch with all my
friends are somewhere getting wasted,
hope they’re staying glued together,
I have arms for them.
Get inside their clothes
with my green gloves
watch their videos, in their chairs.
Get inside their beds
with my green gloves
Get inside their heads, love their loves.
Now I hardly know them
and I’ll take my time
I’ll carry them over, and I’ll make them mine.
Get inside their clothes
with my green gloves
watch their videos, in their chairs.
Get inside their beds
with my green gloves
Get inside their heads, love their loves.
[Sérgio Lavos]
2 comentários:
os médicos forenses usam luvas verdes. e a inveja, por vezes, ganha tons esverdeados.
também há as luvas cor-de-rosa, cantadas pelo Jarvis Cocker. mas essa é sobre uma rapariga que para além das luvas também se veste de cabedal. e enfim.
Enviar um comentário