Carta aberta.

Ao homem da minha vida,

Sejas lá tu quem fores, de certeza que mereces, precisamente por seres o homem da minha vida (oculto, mas enfim), umas palavrinhas bonitas da minha parte.

Estas não fui eu a escrever - quem dera! As boas ideias foram deles. Que, diga-se de passagem, têm tido muitas ideias geniais ao longo do tempo. E é um tesouro, esta música.

Atenção... Faça-se silêncio... E aqui vai disto: Get to Me.

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Well an airplane's faster than a Cadillac,
And a whole lot smoother than a camel's back,
But I don't care how you get to me...
Just get to me.

Parasail or first class mail,
Get on the back of a Nightingale,
Just get to me, I don't care, just get to me...

Prokeds, mopeds take a limousine instead,
They ain't cheap but they're easy to find.
Get on the highway, point yourself my way,
Take a roller coaster that comes in sideways,
Just get to me... Yeah

Go on, hitch a ride on the back of a butterfly,
There's no better way to fly to get to me...
I look around at what I got, and without you, it ain't a lot,
But I got everything, with you, everything...

Or maybe you could pollinate over the Golden Gate,
Take a left hand turn at the corner of Haight,
And then a sharp right at the first street light,
And get yourself on a motor bike...

And if you think you'll get stuck in a traffic jam,
That's fine, send yourself through a telephone line,
It doesn't matter how you get to me...
Just get to me.

'Cause after every day,
The wind blows the night time my way,
And I imagine that you are above me like a star.
And you keep on glowing,
And you keep on showing me the way...
Shine, shine, shine...

Go on, hitch a ride on the back of a butterfly,
There's no better way to fly to get to me...
I look around at what I got, and without you, it ain't a lot,
But I got everything, with you, everything...

Go on, hitch a ride on the back of a butterfly,
There's no better way to fly to get to me...
I look around at what I got, and without you, it ain't a lot,
But I got everything, with you, everything...

And I got everything, with you, everything...
And I got everything, with you, everything...

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Sim. Deixa-me apenas descobrir-te, homem da minha vida, e prometo-te que chego a ti custe o que custar, de uma maneira ou de outra...

Nem que seja preciso "enviar-me" «through a telephone line».


(Sou só eu que às vezes acho que certas letras e músicas foram escritas especialmente para mim? Para se adequarem às minhas ideias, ao meu feitio e aos meus sonhos?)