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Beiträge
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Forget the zipper
Tear this ticket off
Show me everything
Yeah, go on
Say I'm easy
Make the rumours all come true
It's been Ferris Wheels and Freakshows
Since I met you(Grey De Lisle)
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"Don't reach out for me," she said "Can't you see I'm drownin' too?"Highlights von Rolling-Stone.deNeu auf Disney+: Die Film- und Serien-Highlights im August
Amazon Prime Video: Die wichtigsten Neuerscheinungen im August
Neu auf Netflix: Die Serien-Highlights im August 2025
Netflix: Das sind die besten Netflix-Serien aller Zeiten
Neu auf Netflix: Die wichtigsten Filme im August 2025
Sting im Interview: „Trump spricht kein Englisch. Er redet Nonsens“
WerbungSuuria lupauksia
tyhjällä paperilla
pimeässä huoneessa
maalaan pilvilinnoja--
~Even if you know me, don´t say hallo, got too many thoughts in me head now, just wanna sit and watch them grow.~We sleep more than we sleep
(Palace Music – There is cum on your shoes and your dick is hanging out)
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„Lose ourselves, to lose our minds„
Sufjan Stevens – Holland
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“So Am I Still Waiting For This World To Stop Hating“
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If I'm Wrong, I'm Right Where I BelongOriginally posted by wowee zowee@9 Apr 2004, 14:10
We sleep more than we sleep(Palace Music – There is cum on your shoes and your dick is hanging out)
Die Zeile ist mir auch schon aufgefallen…
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If you try acting sad, you'll only make me glad.i wasn't born as much as i fell out
nobody seemed to notice me
we had a hedge back home in the suburbs
over which i never could seeThe Clash
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The basis of optimism is sheer terror. Oscar WildeHaving been fucked is no excuse for being fucked up.
(Kimya Dawson)
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GENAU dieser Song und DIESE Zeile fräsen sich ins Hirn !
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nicht zu schlau nicht zu dumm
(madsen „die perfektion“)--
Belle and Sebastian – Another sunny day
Another day in June, we’ll pick eleven for football
We’re playing for our lives the referee gives us fuck all
I saw you in the corner of my eye on the sidelines
Your dark mascara bids me to historical deeds--
FifteenJugglersHaben wir sowas schon? Ich hoffe nicht.
Dann fang‘ ich mal an:
„For we were never close if the truth were told
All we ever shared was a taste in clothes“(Lloyd Cole, „2CV“)
…..
But everything more or less appears so meaningless
blue and cold
walking alone through the afternoon traffic
I miss you soAnyone who felt like I do
anyone who wasn’t ready to fall
anyone who loved like I do
knows it never really happens at all
it’s over when it’s over
what can I do about it
now that it’s overEverything more or less is looking so meaningless
and fades to grey
lying awake in an ocean of teardrops
I float away
…….(Anyone – Roxette)——————-
Einer ihrer zweifelslos besten Songs.
Muss man eigentlich mal erwähnt haben…--
…
She’s the only girl I’ve cared for, the only one I’ve known.
And no one ever shared more love than we’ve known.
And I miss her.But it all seems so strange to see,
That she’d never turn her back on me
And leave without a last goodbye.
And if she winds up walking the streets,
Loving every other man she meets
Who’ll be the one to answer why?
Lord, I hope it’s not me, it’s not me.And if I never see her face again, I never hold her hand.
And if she’s in somebody’s arms, I know I’ll understand
But I miss that girl. I still miss that girl.Maybe someday soon, somewhere.
=> Thorn tree in the garden – Derek & The Dominos
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Kein Zitat, der ganze Text, mußte sein. Tindersticks – My Sister. Hier werden lockerflockig 98% der üblichen kursierenden blablabla-songtexte in die Tonne gestampft. Mir fällt momentan kaum was Bewegenderes ein, ganz großes Seelenkino das. Wer das Folgende nicht kennt und trotzdem durchliest, darf sich als emotional bereichert betrachten.
Do you remember my sister? How many mistakes did she make with those never
blinking eyes? I couldn’t work it out. I swear she could read your mind, your
life, the depths of your soul at one glance. Maybe she was stripping herself
away, sayingHere I am, this is me
I am yours and everything about me, everything you see…
If only you look hard enough
I never could.
Our life was a pillow-fight. We’d stand there on the quilt, our hands clenched
ready. Her with her milky teeth, so late for her age, and a Stanley knife in
her hand. She sliced the tyres on my bike and I couldn’t forgive her.She went blind at the age of five. We’d stand at the bedroom window and she’d
get me to tell her what I saw. I’d describe the houses opposite, the little
patch of grass next to the path, the gate with its rotten hinges forever wedged
open that Dad was always going to fix. She’d stand there quiet for a moment. I
thought she was trying to develop the images in her own head. Then she’d say:I can see little twinkly stars,
like Christmas tree lights in faraway windows.
Rings of brightly coloured rocks
floating around orange and mustard planets.
I can see huge tiger striped fishes
chasing tiny blue and yellow dashes,
all tails and fins and bubbles.
I’d look at the grey house opposite, and close the curtains.
She burned down the house when she was ten. I was away camping with the scouts.
The fireman said she’d been smoking in bed – the old story, I thought. The cat
and our mum died in the flames, so Dad took us to stay with our Aunt in the
country. He went back to London to find us a new house. We never saw him again.On her thirteenth birthday she fell down the well in our Aunt’s garden and
broke her head. She’d been drinking heavily. On her recovery her sight
returned, a fluke of nature everyone said. That’s when she said she’d never
blink again. I would tell her when she started at me, with her eyes wide and
watery, that they reminded me of the well she fell into. She liked this, it
made her laugh.She moved in with a gym teacher when she was fifteen, all muscles he was. He
lost his job when it all came out, and couldn’t get another one. Not in that
kind of small town. Everybody knew everyone else’s business. My sister would
hold her head high, though. She said she was in love. They were together for
five years until one day he lost his temper. He hit over the back of the neck
with his bullworker. She lost the use of the right side of her body. He got
three years and was out in fifteen months. We saw him a while later, he was
coaching a non-league football team in a Cornwall seaside town. I don’t think
he recognized her. My sister had put on a lot of weight from being in a chair
all the time. She’d get me to stick pins and stub out cigarettes in her right
hand. She’d laugh like mad because it didn’t hurt. Her left hand was pretty
good though. We’d have arm wrestling matches, I’d have to use both arms and
she’d still beat me.We buried her when she was 32. Me and my Aunt, the vicar, and the man who dug
the hole. She said she didn’t want to be cremated and wanted a cheap coffin so
the worms could get to her quickly. She said she liked the idea of it, though I
thought it was because of what happened to the cat, and our mum.--
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