My Death – nella versione di David Bowie per me pura poesia

(Omaggio a Jacques Brel e Scott Walker)

My death waits like an old roué
So confident I’ll go his way
Whistle to him and the passing time
My death waits like a bible truth
At the funeral of my youth
Weep loud for that and the passing time
My death waits like a witch at night
As surely as our love is bright
Let’s not think about the passing time
But what ever lies behind the door
There is nothing much to do
Angel or devil, I don’t care
For in front of that door, there is you
My death waits like a beggar blind
Who sees the world through an unlit mind
Throw him a dime for the passing time
My death waits there between your thighs
Your cool fingers will close my eyes
Let’s not think of that and the passing time
My death waits to allow my friends
A few good times before it ends
So let’s drink to that and the passing time
But what ever lies behind the door
There is nothing much to do
Angel or devil, I don’t care
For in front of that door, there is you
My death waits there among the leaves
In magicians’ mysterious sleeves
Rabbits and dogs and the passing time
My death waits there among the flowers
Where the blackest shadow, blackest shadow cowers
Let’s pick lilacs for the passing time
My death waits there in a double bed
Sails of oblivion at my head
So pull up the sheets against the passing time
But what ever lies behind the door
There is nothing much to do
Angel or devil, I don’t care
For in front of that door, there is you
Compositori: David Bowie
Testo di My Death © Unichappell Music Inc., Tintoretto Music, Mort Shuman Songs, Editions Pouchenel S.P.R.L., Mort Shuman Songs Llp, Hill & Range Songs, COPYRIGHT CONTROL (NON-HFA)