Sleeping Cranes
Que Sera, Sera
There's a man inside a speeding car, careening toward the southHe loves the taste of the tobacco as it tumbles around his mouthHe loves the way the smoke clouds his green eyesAnd how no one can recognize himThere's a girl with a telephone underneath a dreaming treeHer old mirrors are in a landfill, they didn't know how to deceiveShe'd rather live amongst the leavesThan except that one day they'll fallAnd the copycat suburbs keep sprawlingAnd the politicians are still sleeping inAnd the muck rakers are trapped in an apathetic cataractBut don't get upset, it's just the human conditionThere's a poet with a suitcase sitting on a bullet trainHe tosses shredded bits of blueprints out the window to the rainA couple drops, they grab his handsBut he just shakes them off and smiles to himselfAnd there's an activist with a fashion sense in a loft in NYCHer heart is callous but not stricken with the plague of apathyShe fights for winter's right to reignWhen November rolls aroundAnd the president's practicing DarwinLetras de cancionesWhile his podium proclaims his faithSea levels may be on the rise, perfect strangers may have to dieBut don't let it get to you, don't you believe in fate?There's a kid closing the blinds inside of his houseHe's got his nose inside a bible, and his foot crammed in his mouthThe vibrations from the shells can't reach his bones through the sturdy wallsAnd of the death upon his doorstep, he just shrugs, says "Que Sera, Sera"There's a ghost up in the attic, screaming down the staircaseHe says, "Tomorrow's just a wishing well the depth of your pockets dictateSo be sure to ask a lot of questions of the cross and clocks you kneel beneath."But the world, they cannot hear him over the roar of their new TVsAnd the news stations keep pouring us whiskeyAnd the salesmen keep counting their moneyAnd the statistics huddle up inside their tiny, freezing hutsBecause, goddamn it, that's democracy
From Letras Mania