Nikka Costa / Everybody Got Their Something

Do álbum Everybody Got Their Something.
From the LP Everybody Got Their Something.

A semana não tem corrido bem. O peso de tudo, das coisas normais, emprego, mulheres, família, das coisas que chateiam, que chegam aquele ponto em que parece que todas as linhas do destino convergiram para fazer daquela semana um inferno, tudo isso encheu as medidas do meu copo. À minha frente, num bar qualquer, muito escuro - foi por isso que o escolhi -, um copo cheio de qualquer coisa muito forte, qualquer coisa que me possa arrastar para a merda em que pretendo afogar-me hoje à noite. A madeira do balcão tresanda a vómito e a sexo. Pergunto-me, num assomo de sanidade (?), que estaria ali a fazer. Tinha me perdido nas ruas e entrado no primeiro festival de neons azuis e vermelhos e amarelos que favorecesse o meu estado.

Estava quase a afundar de penalty o copo quando um grito estridente perguntou se eu estaria bem. Que é que ela (sim, era uma mulher, claro) acha? Não parece óbvio? Viro-me e uma barragem de som atropela-me. Bateria. Baixo. Guitarra. E. A . Voz. A gritar. Eufórica. Viva.

Durante muito tempo a barragem de som continuou e continuou. Sem parar na euforia, na vida.

No fim, ela saltou do palco, dirigiu-se a mim e disse todos nós temos as nossas coisas, rapaz. Acorda. Bebe. Deita-te ao rio. Mas fá-lo como uma pena. Tudo fica fácil a partir daí.

This week hasn’t been good. The weight of it all, of all these normal things, job, women, family, the things that bother, that slam into your life to the point that it seems that every thread of fate conspired to make that week into a living hell, everything filled my glass to the brim. In front of me, in some bar, very dark – that’s the way I wanted it -, a glass filled with something very strong, something to wash all this shit down and drown me in it. The wood on the counter smells of vomit and sex. I ask myself, in a sudden spurt of sanity (?), what am I doing there. I had lost myself on the streets and came in on the first festival of blue, red and yellow neon that got along with the mood I was in.

I was almost putting down the drink in one go when a shrieking cry asked if I was feeling good. Who does she think she is (yes, it was a woman, of course)? Isn’t it obvious? I turn and a tidal wave of sound rams into me. Drums. Bass. Guitar. And. The. Voice. Crying. Euphoric. Alive.

During a long time the tidal wave goes on and on. Non-stop euphoria and life.

In the end, she jumps from the stage and comes to me and says that everybody got their something, boy. Wake up. Drink. Throw yourself in the river. But do it like a feather. Everything is much easier from there.



My face to the sky
Dreaming about just how high
I could go and I'll know
When I finally get there

Taking of my glasses
Sun pokes through my lashes
And somehow I know
There's a time for every star to shine

Everybody got their something
Everybody got their something
Make you smile like an itty bitty child

People keeping score
Say better hurry up and get yours
Cause somebody else get your spot
Before you even dropped

Seek and you shall find
Everything in my own sweet time
I'll take my chances
With what I believe is only mine

Busy holding on
So the roof don't fly
Keep you from moving on
So get it right
Turn the tide over
Like a love song
Like a butterfly
Believe if you hand it over
You'll come out all right

Everybody got their something
Everybody got their something
Make you smile like an itty bitty child

Illuminate the silly things
Shed some light on all that's wrong
Everybody need it sometime
Sometimes the only thing you got
Is what makes you feel like
You're something else altogether
You have everything don't need
Another reason to be something
I've been on a ride
And caught up in the landslide
But I'm gonna spread my wings and fly...

Everybody got their something
Everybody got their something
Make you smile like an itty bitty child

There's a time for every star
There's a time for every star..