More Than A Feeling

~subota, 14.10.2006.

ma zar opet...

ljudi stvarno nekada mogu biti retardirani, glupi, jadni... ali ovi su stalno! - da, riječ je o tkz. miholjačkim pljeskačima... ufff... ta smrdljiva šminkerska gamad, gade mi se e...
to treba ispizdit (al da samo to...)
tako nešto maloumno da postoji na svijetu...i da ih je u tolikom broju... svaka čast, tkz. bože
ovo je jedano... baš jadno...
još kud su tako ušmišljeni, gadni...tu se još i kurče...
ali... samo kad ih je 10... i samo se usude napasti kad vide jednog, eventualno dvoje... mislim, bravo, skorz ste face.
kako neki ne kuže...da ako im se jednom oprosti, više se neće... ne al ovo...
ja stvarno ne kužim ni što pišem, jer sam "malo" :) pripita :D heh
jebote...kako hrpa maloumnih budala može nekom tako brzo dići tlak?? ako je rijeć o ovim već navedenim budalama - vrlo lako...
ne volim previše srat o ljudima...ali ovo... to da se baš iserem po njima, a ne da serem o njima... odvratni su...
koji je to stupanj života da mi je samo znati??? 1.?? neeee... to je daleko ispod prvog.... oni su vrlo glupa stvorenja, čak su i preglupi da bi shvatili koliko su zapravo glupi...
ma... to su ipak šminkeri... ali oni seljački... s loše ufuranim zurkama... e da, oni koji se tuku međusobno mrtvi pijani po centru :) e baš ti...
misle da su face... ali zapravo, prolaziš pored njih i smiješ im se facu...
ali ipak... njeh 10 se sleti na jednog (pazite foru, 10 na jednog!!!) i onda ga ispizde.... cool, a? i nakon toga najebu kao nikad.... ali ovaj put nisu... al će... ak ne sad u noći... onda sutra... stignu još....
a sad idem spavat... osječam se umorno...
ufff, fuj, sad sam si ih zamislila :S
lol
pa-pa

- 23:34 - Path through the blinding light (24) - Paper vision - #

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o meni:
Ime mi je Dijana, iz Donjeg Miholjca sam. Imam 13 godina. Idem u 8. razred. Slušam metal, pretežno Power. Obožavam balade...i tak, živi se...

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I'm home again, I won the war,
and now I am behind your door.

I tried so hard to obey the law,
see the meaning of it all.

Remember me? Before the war.

I'm the man who lived next door.
Long ago...

As you can see, when you look at me,
I'm pieces of what I used to be.

It's easier if you don't see me
standing on my own two feet.
I'm taller when I sit here still,
you ask are all my dreams fulfilled.
They made me a heart of steal,
the kind them bullets cannot see

Nothing's what it seems to be,
I'm a replica, I'm a replica
Empty shell inside of me
I'm not myself, I'm a replica of me...

The light is green, my slate is
clean, new life to fill the hole in me.
I had no name, last December,

Christmas Eve I can't remember.
I was in a constant pain,
I saw your shadow in a rain
I painted all your pigeons red,
I wish I had stayed home instead.

Nothing's what it seems to be,
I'm a replica, I'm a replica
Empty shell inside of me
I'm not myself, I'm a replica of me...

Are you gonna leave me now, when it is all over
Are you gonna leave me, is my world now over...

Raising from the place I've been,
and trying to keep my home base clean.
Now I'm here and won't go back believe.

I fall asleep and dream a dream,
I'm floating in a silent stream.
No-one placing blame on me
But nothing's what it seems to be,
yeah.

Nothing's what it seems to be,
I'm a replica, I'm a replica
Empty shell inside of me
I'm not myself, I'm a replica of me...