You sit in the bathroom and you paint your toes. I sit on the bed right now and I sing you a song. It's not always easy, but somehow our love stays strong.
Climbing out of open windows. Crashing down from broken stairs. Keeping watch on smoking cinders. Falling over burning chairs. . Tossed and crossed and screwed in transit.
Skeptic at the feast in ashes. Huntsmen at the voyeurs' ball. Funeral parlour guests invited. Mourning poorly worn by all. . Old and mouldy words of passion.
Poor Mohammed at the peep show. Kick the beggar down the stairs. Can't keep guard, he's old and feeble. Steal his books, burn his prayers. . Poor Mohammed at the keyhole.
(fisher / reid). . I sat me down to write a simple story. Which maybe in the end became a song. In trying to find the words which might begin it. I found these were the thoughts I brought along.
(G.Brooker / K.Reid / M.Noble). . Rings around the crescent moon. Passions rise from basement rooms. Fountains play and worlds collide. We gently swing and sway from side to side.
(originally Wash Yourself). . Wash yourself and see your sorrow, make every pitcher clean. Take a mop to swab the floor and destroy the evil dream. Counting houses full of lead, the evil eye on high.
Pandora's Box. . While Horsemen Ride Across the Green. Snow White Still Remains Unseen.. Pegasus, the Winged Horse,. Relays His Messages By Morse.. . and Like Some Pirate Sailor.
Pandora's Box. . While Horsemen Ride Across the Green. Snow White Still Remains Unseen.. Pegasus, the Winged Horse,. Relays His Messages By Morse.. . and Like Some Pirate Sailor.
Entre la cirrosis. Y la sobredosis. Andas siempre, muñeca.. Con tu sucia camisa. Y, en lugar de sonrisa,. Una especie de mueca.. ¿cómo no imaginarte,.
-¿Qué adelantas sabiendo mi nombre?. Cada noche tengo uno distinto. y, siguiendo la voz del instinto. me lanzo a buscar.... -Imagino, preciosa, que un hombre.
Hay una espalda que me está mirando,. hay una nuca que se está dejando acariciar por mí,. hay unos ojos que no saben nada,. hay unos labios que, de madrugada, me dirán que sí..
No pasaba de los veinte. el mayor de los tres chicos. que vinieron a atracarme el mes pasado.. "Subvenciónanos un pico. y no te hagas el valiente. que me pongo muy nervioso si me enfado.".
Si lo que quieres es vivir cien años. no pruebes los licores del placer.. si eres alérgico a los desengaños. olvidate de esa mujer.. Compra una mascara antigas.
Recuperar de nuevo. los nombres de las cosas. llamarle pan al pan. vino llamar al vino. sobaco al sobaco. miserable al destino. y al que mata llamarle.
Jacques Veneruso. . Ces ombres qui dansent. Autour de moi. Je les vois, je ne dors pas,. Je sais ce que tu penses. Tu n'y crois pas,. Tu n'es pas la première comme ça.
Dans son manteau rouge et blanc. Sur un traîneau porté par le vent. Il descendra par la cheminée. Petit garçon, il est l'heure d'aller se coucher. . Tes yeux se voilent.
Je peux changer le cours de monde. Pendant que mes cheveux poussent. Ou je peux attendre et regarder. Mes cheveux pousser jusqu'aux pieds. . Laisser passer chaque seconde.
Je pourrais te parler de ces ailes d'or,. Qui font voyager mon âme et mon décor,. Si tu n'y crois pas. Passe ta route. . Te parler de voiliers au milieu du ciel,.
Wake me up, I've been dreaming. It feels just like any other day. I sit you down, here goes nothing.. And you're not gonna like what I say. Get out, oh just get out..