Some things we plan, we sit and we invent and we plot and cook up,
Others are works of inspiration, of poetry,
And it was this genius hand that pushed me up the hotel stairs
To say my last goodbye,
To her hair white as snow, and her pale blue eyes,
Sayin "I gotta go, I gotta go, the bomb and the bread basket
Are ready to blow,"
In this town of men with big mouths and no guts,
The pencil seller's dog spooked by the explosion
And leapin' under my wheels as I careered outta Longwood on my way to you,
Waitin in your dress, in your dress of blue
And with the horses prancin' through the fields,
With my knife in my jeans and the rain on the shield,
I sang a song for the glory of the beauty of you,
Waitin for me in your dress of blue
Thank you girl, thank you girl
I'll love you till the end of the world
With your eyes black as coal and your long dark curls
oof of.
coffee, candles and flowers
9 yillik ufak bir ara verdik sevgili blogum, ama seni cok ozledim. Ben yine ayni, spor yapiyorum, humus yapiyorum, portakal yiyorum. Bugun c...
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If the sky that we look upon Should tumble and fall All the mountains should crumble to the sea I won't cry, I won't cry No, I won...
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d:why didn't you talk to him? s:i'll tell you. d:yeap, why? s:cuz we weren't in our trench coats! a true legend. :]
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Sözlerimi geri alamam Yazdığımı yeniden yazamam Çaldığımı baştan çalamam Bir daha geri dönemem Akıyorsa göz yaşım kuruma...
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