Música da Semana

Muito sinceramente, como música desta semana eu tinha pensado em criar aqui uma pequena provocação aos meus amigos portistas. Para isso tinha pensado na música, "Pássaro Azul" de André Sardet, como que a simbolizar o caneco que vão ver "voar" da liga dos campeões e pela qual, ao que tudo indica, não vão poder lutar na próxima época caso se confirme a suspensão da UEFA. Mas iria ser maldoso da minha parte, até porque temos andado a viver dias em que os clubes são postos de parte e a uma só voz gritamos por Portugal.
Assim, a escolha desta semana recaí sobre uma antiga mas sempre actual e fantástica voz. Alanis Morissette, que recentemente brindou o povo português com uma bela actuação aquando da sua passagem pelo palco do Rock in Rio, segundo reza a crítica. Para vós todos, "Torch".

I miss your smell and your style and your pure abiding way
Miss your approach to life and your body in my bed
Miss your take on anything and the music you would play
Miss cracking up and wrestling and our debriefs at end of day

These are things that I miss
These are not times for the weak of heart
These are the days of raw despondence
I never dreamed I would have to lay down my torch for you like this

I miss your neck and your gait and your sharing what you write
Miss you walking through the front door documentaries in your hand
Miss traveling our traveling and your fun and charming friends
Miss our big sur getaways
And to watch you love my dogs

These are things that I miss
These are not times for the weak of heart
These are the days of raw despondence
I never dreamed I would have to lay down my torch for you like this

One step one prayer I soldier on, simulating moving on

I miss your warmth and the thought of us bringing up our kids
And the part of you that walks with your stick-tied handkerchief

These are things that I miss
These are not times for the weak of heart
These are the days of raw despondence
I never dreamed I would have to lay down my torch for you like this

These are things that I miss
These are not times for the weak of heart
These are the days of raw despondence
I never dreamed I would have to lay down my torch for you like this