Words: Dylan Thomas. . The sky is torn across. This ragged anniversary of two. Who moved for three years in tune. Down the long walks of their vows.. .
The sky is full of dirty, aching air. That's burning a greasy yellow. And zooming slowly in on everyone. Untie these fighting sunsets that will not be fulfilled.
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If you're looking to find. A place to hide. Where the climate is cool. And the river is wide. . Down in the Nookie Wood. Down in the Nookie Wood. . In the kitchens of the Mardi Gras.
My Maria. She's a simple kind of girl. Goes to Mass. Sees the blood of Jesus flow. . Ohhh Maria. Ohhh Maria. . Then her mother told her baby how her brother died.
I believe you Mr. Wilson. I believe the things you say. And I'm always thinking of you. When I hear your music play. . And you know it's true. That Wales is not like California in any way.
Open the window. In come the clouds. Reaching around my neck. Looked in the mirror, nobody there. What's gonna happen next. . Mothra, Mothra, give it a whirl.
In the shadows of the night come the friends of fantasy. Dancing forward toward the dawn, wrapped in coats of vanity. In the closets, in the home hang the toasts of days gone by.
Momamma Scuba. Scuba woman down me slow. Scuba woman down me slow. Love you. Skin turn to slime. . Hold me slow and dub me down. Take me with you, dub me down.
She caught me by surprise. Bursting into tears. Boo hoo. . I found you on the freeway. Shredding the alphabet. Listening to the fog banks. Joni Mitchell and her parking lot.
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You want to call me Sam. You want to call me Freddy. If you call me anything - it's fine, it's fine. . You want to call me Manuel. You don't know why.
May I help you, Sir?. Yes, I'd like to buy a map, please. What kind of map?. . As up-to-date as possible. I'm thinking of doing a bit of traveling. And I need the latest world atlas.
Welcome home Macbeth. It's been a long long time. And everyone knows you're here. It's easy to see they care. . Banquo's been and gone. He's seen it all before.
Look at that old man with the broken shoes. He could tell you stories he knows how to lose. Look at that sweet thing packaged so tight. . She does things her own way, knows the wrong from right.
I've got four walls and a roof. Gonna put the roof on top. I've got glass for the windows. We'll have windows to look thru. . 'Cause this is living. This is living with you.
Words: Dylan Thomas. . Lie still, sleep becalmed, sufferer with the wound. In the throat, burning and turning. All night afloat. On the silent sea we have heard the sound.
We kill in the world. We live in it. We live in it. Then you smiled crawling as your houses were burning for God. . Books crawl down from the shelves Read themselves to you Read themselves at you In the Library of Force.
OK, we're rolling, Q-gramms. Closer from camera one. Hold it, hold it. That's nice, back a bit. Camera two, cut to two. Lovely, hold that, hold that, hold that.
Lady godiva, hair dressed so demurely. Pats the head of another curly-haired boy. Just another toy. Sick with silence she weeps sincerely. Saying words that have all so clearly been said.