Still Loving You

Scorpions
Time, it needs time I would try to change
To win back your love again Things that killed our love
I will be there, I will be there Your pride has built a wall, so strong
Love, only love That I can't get through
Can bring back your love someday Is there really no chance
I will be there, I will be there To start once again
And fight, babe, I'll fight If we'd go again
To win back your love again All the way from the start
I will be there, I will be there I would try to change
Love, only love Things that killed our love
Can break down the wall someday Yes, I've hurt your pride, and I know
I will be there, I will be there What you've been through
You should give me a chance
If we'd go again This can't be the end
All the way from the start I'm still loving you
I would try to change I'm still loving you
Things that killed our love I'm still loving you
Your pride has built a wall, so strong I need your love
That I can't get through I'm still loving you
Is there really no chance Still loving you baby
To start once again
I'm loving you I'm still loving you
I need your love
And try, baby try I'm still loving you
To trust in my love again I need your love
I will be there, I will be there I need your love
Love, our love I need your love
Shouldn't be thrown away
I will be there, I will be there Still loving you
Compositores: Rudolf Schenker / Klaus Meine /
If we'd go again Herman Rarebell
All the way from the start
(…) Deram dez horas. Antes de se recolher foi ao quarto onde se fizera a cama da ama. A
Gertrudes, o criado de Arroios, o Teixeira, estavam lá cochichando ao pé da cómoda, na
penumbra que dava um fólio posto diante do candeeiro; todos se esquivaram em pontas de
pés quando lhe sentiram os passos, e a ama continuou a arrumar em silêncio os gavetões. No
vasto leito, o pequeno dormia como um Menino Jesus cansado, com o seu guizo apertado na
mão. Afonso não ousou beijá-lo, para o não acordar com as barbas ásperas; mas tocou-lhe na
rendinha da camisa, entalou a roupa contra a parede, deu um jeito ao cortinado, enternecido,
sentindo toda a sua dor acalmar-se naquela sombra de alcova onde o seu neto dormia. (…)

Maias, Eça de Queirós.