Ri na cruinne. Ta na daoine ag milleadh. An chine daonna. Nil muid curamach go leor. . (a) ri na cruinne. Ta'n duira scriosadh. O bhliain go bliain. Nil muid faichilleach go leor.
Yeah yeah. . Uh Uh Oh, Uh Uh Oh, Uh Uh Oh. . Vs. Am I gonna get better. Is it gonna get easier. Am I gonna get over it. Tellin' you I'm no good. . Am I gonna get thinner.
Pure untainted flesh. tempts the mind. feeds the carnal lust. and carnivorous urge. . Taste of sweet meat. between Ribs of the virgin. Charred remains of the skin.
Limpo as mãos. Vou embora. É outro dia. A luta continua. Lavo a chaga. Purgo a dor. Salto a cerca. O luto continua. Pinto os olhos. Unto a pele. Venho à tona.
i've seen it done like, the way the dogs do. i'll think it over, we're standing into. your phony life and now it's all dry. can't take it you will see.
No one's taking my heart away. No one's taking the place of you. Even though I am miles away. You should know that I'm always true. . Count the days till I reach the end.
Sor, lofrre desor. mos, lavde cierros. lod, sofirra degons. indgo yavando,. lavndi smde. . Umyam yamlo ridighela. umyam yamlo ridia. umyam yamlo ridia.
One click and time stood still. One bright flash accompanied the will. The will to freeze the moment (in time). The thread through all our lives. Evidence for years to come.
A moment to pause and rest my oversized,. overpriced head.. I'm gazing at the edges of our geometric nests. against a backdrop of atmosphere, and squinting to blur it all clear..
We hide behind what we create,. but this time the product shall consume. and shit us back to what we once were.
Philosopher Bastard head of the Eucharist. Seasons have counted backward. Return the baby to the river. Wooden raft. Upstream current of Yahweh's golden piss.
I've come to warn you all. A dark and deadly force. Is now beyond control. We don't have one second to lose. It's looking like. The end is coming soon.
In this cold dark city. Nothing for sure. Ain't nothing for free. The situation's a pity. Everything failing. Just existing. Ventured into places. Where you should not tread.
My thoughts flow out inhaled by others. As old disappears new arises. You could have a hard time adjusting to it so just. Receive, retrieve, and escalate.
And when you left your diary. I took the opportunity. To make a brief enquiry. About a name I could see. But when I dialled his number. To ask if he'd spent the night alone.
Oh, Christmas tree, oh, Christmas tree. How bent your branches seem to be. Nineteen twenty-one and all's well. Another fifteen years and we'll be laughing in hell.
Too many crap programs. With too many adverts. Too much matthew engel bullshit. And not enough dirt. Media and programs. All dull and mundane. How to fill up space.
Missionaries up from the South. Have come to put words in our ignorant mouths. Big company muscles flex. And we're all pulled along by the seat of our kecks.