поздно, очен.
о птици не могу думат.
о мне тоже нет.
жду рождество. но надеюс лето скоро будет остоват время.
vremia, tam gde mir daleko, a jizn blije.
sabato, giugno 30, 2007
giovedì, giugno 21, 2007
martedì, giugno 19, 2007
giovedì, giugno 14, 2007
Middle Earth, Middle Europe
Do you like to sky? Yes sure, I do sky, no problems.
What about driving? Oh, very much indeed.
Do you like taxes? Not really, I'd prefer to pay less of them.
Do you miss the mediterranean? Very much, it's very far away now.
Where, where?
What about driving? Oh, very much indeed.
Do you like taxes? Not really, I'd prefer to pay less of them.
Do you miss the mediterranean? Very much, it's very far away now.
Where, where?
erodoto
Why don't we believe people that lived long ago?
I believe in everything I read that was written long ago.
Everything, that hasn't been later dismissed by science.
And even science eventually comes back to agree.
Now, I believe in my Sarmatian.
Kill your enemy, or never be wed.
I believe in everything I read that was written long ago.
Everything, that hasn't been later dismissed by science.
And even science eventually comes back to agree.
Now, I believe in my Sarmatian.
Kill your enemy, or never be wed.
mercoledì, giugno 13, 2007
giovedì, giugno 07, 2007
just a note
night had come faster then he realized.
when night comes, voices stop.
he'd have liked to say a few last words.
his heart had just been the sunset. red and yellow, but not for too long.
like the sun, it had been a glorious blue day.
but like the sun, the end had been a pain.
they say the sun is carried by gods in a chariot.
I wish I had caught the chariot tonight, leaving a not for you.
A note that drops on you when the sun wakes up tomorrow and fast runs across the sky.
A note that said what i told, only better and many more times again.
This note could be the one I just wrote,
reaching you
when night comes, voices stop.
he'd have liked to say a few last words.
his heart had just been the sunset. red and yellow, but not for too long.
like the sun, it had been a glorious blue day.
but like the sun, the end had been a pain.
they say the sun is carried by gods in a chariot.
I wish I had caught the chariot tonight, leaving a not for you.
A note that drops on you when the sun wakes up tomorrow and fast runs across the sky.
A note that said what i told, only better and many more times again.
This note could be the one I just wrote,
reaching you
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