Lasciate ogni speranza, voi, ch' entrate


Malo iskrenosti je opasna stvar, a mnogo iskrensti je potpuno fatalno.

Moto, the thing, po kojoj scrip pokušava voditi život.


Laž koja se dovoljno često izgovori postaje istina.


Briga je vrtlog uzaludnih misli koje se okreću oko centra u kojemu je strah. Stalna briga dovest će vas na jedno mjesto prije vremena - groblje

scrip

subota, 14.05.2005.

scrip Gol. kao što vidite to je gol. Moja sudba moje prokletstvo. Vječito mjesto mojih frustracija i neopisivo središte univerzalne sreće. Kad lopta uđe u gol nema ljepšeg, a ova rečenica se može shvatiti u mnogo oblika. Rođeni golgeter, stvoreni branitelj tog svetišta, neviđena karizma na terenu, vođa, štovatelj. Kultna stvar, o njoj se ne raspravlja. Osim sa alkoprincom, kao vrhunskim štovateljem i nerješivom enigmom.

- 14:52 - Komentari (2) - Isprintaj - #

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opis
Scrip, moderni dečko današnjice, ponukan dobrim drugom Alkoprincom otvara ovaj blog.


Ako je A uspjeh u životu, tada je A jednako x plus y plus z. X je rad; y je igra; a z je držati jezik za zubima


vrati se kući sine Edipe, sve ti je oprošteno -Mama Samo preko mene mrtvog - Tata

the song


What do I do to ignore them behind me?
Do I follow my instincts blindly?
Do I hide my pride from these bad dreams?
And give in to sad thoughts that are maddening?
Do I sit here and try to stand it?
Or do I try to catch them red-handed?
Do I trust some and get fooled by phoniness,
Or do I trust nobody and live in loneliness?
Because I can't hold on when I'm stretched so thin
I make the right moves but I'm lost within
I put on my daily facade but then
I just end up getting hurt again
By myself [myself]

I ask why, but in my mind
I find I can’t rely on myself

I can’t hold on
To what I want when I’m stretched so thin
It’s all too much to take in
I can’t hold on
To anything watching everything spin
With thoughts of failure sinking in

If I
Turn my back I’m defenseless
And to go blindly seems senseless
If I hide my pride and let it all go on then they’ll
Take from me ‘till everything is gone
If I let them go I’ll be outdone
But if I try to catch them I’ll be outrun
If I’m killed by the questions like a cancer
Then I’ll be buried in the silence of the answer
by myself [myself]

I ask why, but in my mind
I find I can’t rely on myself

How do you think I’ve lost so much
I'm so afraid that I'm out of touch
How do you expect... I will know what to do
When all I know Is what you tell me to

Don’t you know
I can’t tell you how to make it go
No matter what I do, how hard I try
I can’t seem to convince myself why
I’m stuck on the outside