Pink Bullets

Pink Bullets
I was just bony hands as cold as a winder pole
You held a warm stone out new flowing blood to hold
Oh what a contrast you were
To the brutes in the halls
My timid young fingers held a decent animal

Over the ramparts you tossed
The scent of your skin and some foreign flowers
Tied to a brick, sweet as a song
The years have been short but the days were long
Cool of a temperate breeze from dark skies to wet grass
We fell in a field, it seems now a thousand summers passed
When our kite lines first crossed
We tied them into knots
And to finally fly apart we had to cut them off
Since then it's been a book you read in reverse
So you understand less as the pages turn
Or a movie so crass and awkwardly cast
That even I could be the star
I don't look back much as a rule
And all this way before murder was cool
But your memory is here and I'd like it to stay
Warm light on a winter's day
Over the ramparts you tossed
The scent of your skin and some foreign flowers
Tied to a brick, sweet as a song
The years have seemed short but the days go slowly by
Two loose kites falling from the sky
Drawn to the ground and an end to flight
En 'Pink Bullets' de The Shins, la narrativa poética se despliega con una delicadeza especial. La canción teje la historia de un encuentro singular y perdurable entre dos almas sensibles...