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The Fart (of Every Heart)

from Artă & me​ș​te​ș​ug by Pandrea

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lyrics

If when Don Cupids dart
Doth wound a heart,
we hide our grief
and shun relief;
The pain increaseth on that score;
For wounds unsearcht but ranckle more.

Then if we whine, look pale,
And tell our tale,
men are in pain
for us again;
So, neither speaking doth become
The Lovers state, nor being dumb.

When this I do descry,
Then thus think I,
love is the fart
of every heart:
It pains a man when 'tis kept close,
And doth offend when 'tis let loose.

- after Sir John Suckling (1609-1642)

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from Artă & me​ș​te​ș​ug, released April 3, 2017

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Pandrea București, Romania

2003-2008, 2011-2017

"un ghiveci stricat de rock, alternative și noise" - VICE Romania

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