You don't love me, what's to love anyway?
You don't love me, would love be my saving grace?
You don't love me, ah ah ah
It's delirium, it's a childlike dream then it fades away
It's illusion, would love put me in my place?
The illusion, ah
The delirium, ah
The delusion, ah
Oh yeah yeah, I'm going nowhere
Now I'm going nowhere
You don't love me, what's to love anyway?
You don't love me, would love be my saving grace?
You don't love me, ah ah ah
Now I'm going nowhere
Oh yeah yeah yeah, I'm going nowhere
Oh yeah yeah yeah, I'm going nowhere
Oh yeah yeah yeah, with my torn red heart
With my torn red heart
With my torn red heart
With my torn red heart
With my torn red heart
Mark Lanegan [*]
Sunday, March 15, 2015
Friday, March 13, 2015
Thursday, March 12, 2015
Tuesday, March 10, 2015
borboletas numa caixa de sapatos em que eu abria furos para que respirassem
(não se calcula a quantidade de oxigénio que as borboletas requerem)
os grandes cães silenciosos que nos perseguem nos sonhos e ao saltarem para nos morder acordamos, pensa-se
- Sonhei
e no entanto um resto de saliva deles no pijama
António Lobo Antunes, O Arquipélago da Insónia
(não se calcula a quantidade de oxigénio que as borboletas requerem)
os grandes cães silenciosos que nos perseguem nos sonhos e ao saltarem para nos morder acordamos, pensa-se
- Sonhei
e no entanto um resto de saliva deles no pijama
António Lobo Antunes, O Arquipélago da Insónia
Saturday, March 07, 2015
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