Grandma's Hands
Ron Kenoly
Composição: Bill Withers

Grandma's hands clapped in church on Sunday morning
Grandma's hands played a tambourine so well
Grandma's hands used to issue out a warning
She'd say Ronny don't you run so fast
You might fall on a piece of glass
There might be snakes there in the grass
Grandma's hands

Grandma's hands soothed a local unwed mother
Grandma's hands used to ache sometimes and swell
Grandma's hands used to lift a face and tell her
She'd say baby Grandma understands
That you really love that man
Put your faith in Jesus' hands
Grandma's hands

Grandma's hands used to hand me a piece of candy
Grandma's hands picked me each time I'd fall
Grandma's hands
Lord they really came in handy
She'd say Edith don't you whip that boy
What'cha wanna spank him for
He didn't steal that candy from no store
But I don't have Grandma anymore
When I get to heaven
I'm gonna look for Grandma's hands

I CANT FIND MYSELF

Cell 03, weakness of the soul. Statement of diagnosis.
Boring afternoon in this city. Score of Joe's boring life: Creativity=0/5, Intelligence = 2/5, Beauty=3/5, Physical performance=1/5, Social performance=2/5, Satisfaction=1/5, Succes=3/5, Happiness feeling=2/5.
Whats the matter with you duh?,the man in front of the end of an age, try on getting up, but giving up. It could be also myself, in that bad moment to make up a downed mind, It looks like a good moment to take bad choices. When you want to be a prisioner you should have the right to hide yourself but they don't allow you to do it.
Who?, people who hold you, why? coz they don't wanna accept you can't hold them, coz they don't wanna fall into the silence of their heads.
You aren't a genius, a Jesus, a hero, and, particulary now, after several motivational damages, don't ought to keep yourself fighting, in spite of resting, in spite of scape by yourself, but not alone.
It isn't a complaint, it's an excuse.

ILLUSTRATED MEMORIES I

GET PACE TO THE BOSS FOR HIS LAST DAYS

Everyday, without realizing that, we set a little fire to offer to somebody. A boss of my life, a man with a huge desire of life, shaped to endure a long time, has to take his own track, but he doesn't want. Pace for him, I looked for. Who loves him has not to hold, has to leave him move away. Love is thus.
When I discovered the real essence of this man, his fear and his bravery, being strong and immature to accept our vulnerability, then I decided to allow myself to get my own track, far from him, without sensation of fault and without turning my head back to see my... our past. A kid behind an obsessive old man working, a kid smelling the air and dreaming how to live in a house built by him, my gran dad.
Everyday, without realizing that, we set a little fire to offer to somebody, to their pace and happiness, I already did it.

ESTÁ LLENA DE MIEDO, me dijo ella,
Esa forma de enfrentar la vida,
Y se me quedó en la boca el movimiento de sus labios,
Algo revivió, se hizo zozobra,
Todo fue viento en la superficie de su piel,
En la belleza de sus manos largas.

“¡Lanza tus cartas del tiempo futuro!”,
Creí estar listo para el destino,
Y sin embargo tiemblo esperando
Una señal de tus ojos negros”.

Lanza tus cartas, yo apuesto
Que al final veremos a la distancia,
Del juego infame de amor que jugamos,
La forma del conjunto.