tirsdag 12. juni 2012

Det er en sang, du kan lese det som dikt, en tekst, hva du vil

Yellow bird flying gets shot in the wing, good year for hunter. And Christmas parties. And I hate and I hate and I hate and I hate elevator music, the way we fight, the way I'm left here silent. Oh these little earthquakes here we go again.These little earthquakes doesn't take much to rip us into pieces. We danced in graveyards with vampires till dawn.We laughed in the faces of kings, never afraid to burn. And I hate and I hate and I hate and I hate disintegration, watching us wither; black winged roses that safely changed their color. Oh these little earthquakes here we go again. These little earthquakes doesn't take much to rip us into pieces. I can't reach you, I can't reach you. Give me life, give me pain, give me myself again..Oh these little earthquakes here we go again.These little earthquakes doesn't take much to rip us into pieces.

Tori Amos med sangen Little Earthquakes.

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