I am still. Cannot feel. There's silence. I am an island. . I am still. And my will. Is broken. I am frozen. . I'm the king in the mirror. Queen of the shy.
Run out. watch out. careful don't get hurt. crazy bitch. you're sane in Friedberg. . Black sheep she's a. big creep better. be careful don't you wake her up cause she.
It's OK. I'm just gonna clap my hands. It's OK. I just wanna fuck your friend. . Somewhere there's a fly in the spiderweb. I feel like Pinocchio. Creating lies in the waiting room.
Quando andrai a Scarborough Fair. salvia, menta, prezzemolo e timo. Tu porta il segno del mio rimpianto. alla donna che allora io amavo.. . Vorrei in dono una camicia di lino.
la pulce d'acqua. che l'ombra ti rub. e tu ora sei malato. e la mosca d'autunno. che hai schiacciato. non ti perdoner. . Sull' acqua del ruscello. forse tu troppo ti sei chinato,.
Col mio soffio di vulcano canceller. il gelo di questa stanza. e col volo di una freccia trafigger. quella pallida luna a distanza;. ci sar e non ci sar,.
A Te solo buon Signore. Si confanno gloria e onore. A Te ogni laude et benedizione. A Te solo si confanno. Che lAltissimo Tu sei. E nullomo degno. Te mentovare.
Venite tutti, che strana meraviglia il mare ci port?... Venite tutti, ?Gulliver il grande che il mare ci port?... Addormentato davanti a noi Gulliver il grande....
Will ye go tae Flanders, Young Jimmy-o?. Oh will ye go tae Flanders, Young Jimmy-o?. There you'll get wine and brandy. And medals find and dandy,. O will ye go to Flanders, Young Jimmy-o?.
Where are you tonight I wonder. And where will you be tonight when I cry?. Will sleep for you come easy,. Though I alone can't slumber. Will you welcome in the morning.
My heart was ance as blithe and free. As simmer days were lang;. But a bonie, westlin weaver lad. Has gart me change my sang.. . Chorus.-To the weaver's gin ye go, fair maids,.
Tibbie Fowler o' the glen, there's ower mony wooin' at her. Tibbie Fowler o' the glen, there's ower mony wooin' at her. Ten cam' east and ten cam' west and ten cam' sailin' ower the watter.
Come gather 'round you freeborn men. And draw your chairs to mine.. And I'll tell you of my country,. That you might understand.. And of the English armies,.
Oh, there're sober men in plenty,. And drunkards barely twenty,. There are men of over ninety. That have never yet kissed a girl.. But gie me a ramblin' rover,.
Oh, what a parish, a terrible parish;. Oh, what a parish is that o' Dunkeld.. They hangit their minister, droon'd their precentor,. Dang doun the steeple and fuddled the bell..
When o'er the hill the eastern star. Tells bughtin time is near, my jo,. And owsen frae the furrow'd field. Return sae dowf and weary O;. Down by the burn, where birken buds.
I'm wearin' awa', Jean. Like snaw-wreaths in thaw, Jean. I'm wearin' awa'. To the land o' the Leal. . There 's nae sorrow there, Jean. There 's neither cauld nor care, Jean.
Pity the fate of a poor Irish stranger,. That wanders so far from his home,. That sighs for protection from want, woe, and danger,. That knows not from which way for to roam..
Let your quacks and newspapers be cutting their capers. About curing the vapors the scratch and the gout. With their medical potions, their serums and their lotions.