esto era mi balde de sangría, de momento es mi horno a leña... bienvenido

18.5.11

esta es una época rara...









. . .








me pregunto si hubo alguna vez una época que no se sintiese rara




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1 comentario:

  1. la canción dice:


    i'm a fast breather, i'm a hairless dog.
    and alone at the end of the day, i'm just like the gathering fog.
    i'm a slow mover, i'm the best laid plans.
    and alone at the end of the day, i just sit with my head in my hands.
    but we speak easy. and we seldom fight.
    and i chew on the bones of the day while you sleep soft and warm in the night.
    and i can't see you. with anyone else.
    even if that means holding me down, even if that means losing myself. he's a smooth talker. and he shaves his face.
    and i wonder if you look at me and instead see him taking my place.
    but i do need you. and no one else.
    and i hope you're around and forgiving when you see me losing myself.


    (I´m losing myself - Robin Pecknold)

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