Ooh! Get me away from here I'm dying
Play me a song to set me free
Nobody writes them like they used to
So it may as well be me
Here on my own now after hours
Here on my own now on a bus
Think of it this way
You could either be successful or be us
With our winning smiles, and us
With our catchy tunes, and us
Now we're photogenic
You know, we don't stand a chance

Oh, I'll settle down with some old story
About a boy who's just like me
Thought there was love in everything and everyone
You're so naive!
They always reach a sorry ending
They always get it in the end.
Still it was worth it as I turned the pages solemnly, and then
With a winning smile, the boy
With naivety succeeds
At the final moment, I cried
I always cry at endings

Oh, that wasn't what I meant to say at all
From where I'm sitting, rain
Washing against the lonely tenement
Has set my mind to wander
Into the windows of my lovers
They never know unless I write
"This is no declaration, I just thought I'd let you knowgoodbye"
Said the hero in the story"
It is mightier than swords
I could kill you sure
But I could only make you cry with these words

"http://maissoma.com/2011/8/17/entrevista-alto-contraste"

I love the time and in between
The calm inside me
In this space where I can breathe
I believe there is a distance I have wandered
To touch upon the years
Reaching out and reaching in
Holding out holding in

"- O que teme, senhora? - perguntou ele.
- Uma gaiola - disse ela. - Ficar atrás de grades, até que o hábito e a velhice as aceitem e todas as oportunidades de realizar grandes feitos estejam além dequalquer lembrança ou desejo."

desfez a espuma, não o sonho.

viktor gardsater

para ter certeza da duração de um suspiro, feche as janelas, tranque as portas, desligue a tv, fique em pé no centro da sala e feche os olhos.

aonde estávamos mesmo? ah é, perdidos.

Em Berlim, um grupo de ciclistas derrubou 13 galões de tinta no movimentado cruzamento da Rosenthaler Platz. As rodas dos veículos fizeram linhas coloridas no chão servindo de pincel para a arte de guerrilha. A tinta sai com água, mas o protesto fica.

no silêncio, eu deixo o pensamento na janela.

miranda july ♥

look at the sky: that is for you. look at each person’s face as you pass on the street: those faces are for you. and the street itself, and the ground under the street, and the ball of fire underneath the ground: all these things are for you. they are as much for you as they are for other people. remember this when you wake up in the morning and think you have nothing."

o resto é sonho.