What happens to the hole when the cheese is gone?

  prosinac, 2010  
P U S Č P S N
    1 2 3 4 5
6 7 8 9 10 11 12
13 14 15 16 17 18 19
20 21 22 23 24 25 26
27 28 29 30 31    


Dnevnik.hr
Gol.hr
Zadovoljna.hr
OYO.hr
NovaTV.hr
DomaTV.hr
Mojamini.tv

Komentari On/Off

Ovdje se nalazim
loona_twilight@hotmail.com

***
***

It's been such a long week.
So much crying.
I no longer see a future.
I've been told when I get older
That I'll understand it all.
But I'm not sure if I want to.
Running into her arms
At the school gates
She whispers that I'm a poor kid.
And Granny takes me on her knee.
She tells me I'm too sensitive.
She makes me sad.

She makes me feel like an old man.
She makes me feel like an old man.
They took the game right out of it.
They took the game right out of it.

When I am a man
I will be an astronaut,
And find Peter Pan.

Second star on the right,
Straight on 'til morning.
Second star on the right,
Straight on 'til morning.

Dennis loves to look
In the mirror.
He tells me that he is beautiful.
So I look too, and what do I see?
My eyes are full,
But my face is empty.
He's got a photo
Of his hero.
He keeps it under his pillow.
But I've got a pin-up
From a newspaper
Of Peter Pan.

I found it in a locket.
I hide it in my pocket.
They took the game right out of it.
They took the game right out of it.

When I am a man
I will be an astronaut,
And find Peter Pan.


"When you wish upon a star,
Makes no difference who you are.
When you wish upon a star
Your dreams come true."



***
Hey, Peter Pan
I'm going home now
I've done all I can
Besides I'm grown now
I'll think of you
all painted with the night
You sit and watch from somewhere
As one by one the lights go out

I wrote a note to
tell you how you matter
When the rain came down
All the letters scattered
And washed away
Drifted off to Never
Where you'll be safe
from me now forever

I believe you now when
You say that this will hurt
So I don't have to go and
Play with you in the dirt now

Opis bloga
Događa Se Kad
Se Najmanje Nadaš

***

:)
I was 18 when I came to town
They called in the Summer of Love
burningbabies, burning flags
The Hawks against the Doves
I took a job in the Steamen
way Down on Cauldrum Street
I fell in love with a laundry girl
that Was working next to me

She was a rare thing
Fine as a beeswing
So fine a breath of wind
might blow her away
She was a lost child
She was running wild, she said
so long as there's no price on love, I'll stay
And you wouldn't want me any other way

Brown hair zig-zag round her face
And a look of half-surprise
Like a fox caught in the headlights
There was animal in her eyes
She said to me, o can't you see
I'm not the factory kind
and If you don't take me out of here
I'll lose my miind

We busked around the market towns
fruit pickin down in Kent
And we could tinker pots and pans
And knives wherever we went
We were camping down the Gower one time
and The work was mighty good
she wouldnt wait for harvest
I thought we should

I said to her we'll settle down
and Get a few acres dug
with the Fire burning in the hearth
And babies on the rug
She said O man, you foolish man
It surely sounds like hell
You might be lord of half the world
You'll not own me as well

We were drinking more in those days
And tempers reached a pitch
Like a fool I let her run away
but she took the rambling itch
and Last I heard she's living rough
Back on the Derby beat
with the bottle of White Horse in her pocket
a wolfhound at her feet

They say she got marriend once
to the man called Romany Brown
even a Gypsy caravan
Was too much like settliing down
They say her rose is faded
rough weather and hard booze
maybe that's the price you pay
For the chains that you refuse

***
I don't know you
But I want you
All the more for that
Words fall through me
And always fool me
And I can't react
And games that never amount
To more than they're meant
Will play themselves out
Take this sinking boat
and point it home
We've still got time
Raise your hopeful voice
you have a choice
You've made it now
Falling slowly,
eyes that know me
And I can't go back
Moods that take me
and erase me
And I'm painted black
You have suffered enough
And warred with yourself
It's time that you won
Falling slowly sing your melody
I'll sing along

12.12.2010., nedjelja

VANI SU PADALI PIJANCI UMJESTO SNIJEGA

Hah, i opet prebožićno i predrođeno, predodređeno? Sve je Pred, a nikako se iščupati iz onog Prije. Možda je samo netko tako bacio kocke. Dobro, tko sam ja da se bunim, na kraju?
Ipak se uhvatim kako s vremena na vrijeme čeznutljivo gledam ekran gdje se glavni protagonisti zapravo nađu na kraju svake scene, u završnoj sekvenci trake sedme umjetnosti, vrag odnese šalu, netko upali glazbu, i počne voljenje. A ja se ispljuskam ubrzo nakon, pa daj, nema toga. Nitko te se ne sjeti dok sjediš i gledaš u telefon, i ne sudariš se s Njim na sred ulice, i ne, nitko ti nikad ne kupuje cvijeće.
Prerasli smo te neke kadrove, predebeli smo i gušavi realnošću da bi se stisnuli u monitore sreće. Ne postoji savršen muškarac, niti savršena žena.
Postojimo MI.
Ružni, debeli, glupi, tromi, nezaposleni, pijani, glasni i prosti.
Prekrasni?
Uvijek prekrasni.
Pa kad se shvati da svi pokušaji lobotomija propadnu, onda zabijamo ruke u trbuhe teladi i hobotničje glave, da barem nekako nadomjestimo potrebu seciranja umova.
Nekakvih, nekad.
A brkovi od capuccina su smiješni. I odlični start komuniciranja.
Događa se sukob interesa kad želim imati tvoju ruku blizu, ali je ne želim držati.
Samo znati da je prisutna, tamo u mraku, između disanja i prevrtanja po krevetu. Al nemam niti toliko.
Počinjem misliti da moja beskonačna strpljivost dolazi nekom kraju. A znam da nije tako.
Samo gasim čipove sinapsi koje je briga. Zip, jedna, zip, druga, treća, peta.
I opet sam robotno mašinerijska. A vani je snijeg.
Na kojeg se neću naviknuti nikako i nikad. Točnije, hoću, na pedesetšesti rođendan. Izračunala sam da mi toliko treba.
No, vraćam se u tok misli, iz kojeg stalno bježim pa zapnem glavom o kamen uz obalu.
Pas mater.
Uglavnom, stala sam u snijegu. Moćna kao vlak, Mato Lovrak bi se posramio mojim zapinjanjem. A željela sam napeći neka pikantna peciva s maslinama i pršutom, i pustiti iluziju vatre s monitora i pogasit svjetla. I sjediti tu, grijući stopala pod tvojim dupetom.
Al nula bodova.
Pa je čudno što potajno volim Ron Weasley-a? Pfffff.
Vi patuljci zaista pojma nemate.

- 17:02 - Komentari (0) - Isprintaj - #

Blog.hr koristi kolačiće za pružanje boljeg korisničkog iskustva. Postavke kolačića mogu se kontrolirati i konfigurirati u vašem web pregledniku. Više o kolačićima možete pročitati ovdje. Nastavkom pregleda web stranice Blog.hr slažete se s korištenjem kolačića. Za nastavak pregleda i korištenja web stranice Blog.hr kliknite na gumb "Slažem se".Slažem se