on the verge of the word III

Apetece-me partir de mim, sem volta que não a ida. E se no caminho todos os passos se apagarem, e se na chegada todos os pensamentos se perderem, será que aquele que de mim parte nunca terá existido? All you motherfuckers have been wrong: Put a weight on me, left me to drown. I’m not going down All you senseless bastards, all you crones Put a weight on me, left me alone. I’m going home. All the times I needed you were gone; Every cry for help was so forlorn But I pushed along, pushed along… In time you’d feel so fine, (It was so much more than fine – ‘cause in that time you’d feel Love shine) There was so much more to find So alone, on my own, or so it seems. All you MF have been wrong: Put a weight on me, left me to drown. I’m not going down All the times I needed you were gone; Every cry for help was so forlorn But I pushed along, pushed along… In time you’d feel so fine, There was so much more to find. In that time you’d feel just fine There was so much more to find. So alone, on my own, I just play it again, play it again on my own This is the end, or so it seems, The end.