ON AIR: Suzanne, Fabrizio De Andrè
The title of this post could be misleading: it I'm not going to talk about the election. Nausea, now complete and all-encompassing, has become a form of slumber slumbered idelogico-making: in other words, I was in Rome, however, even back in Calafrica, would not have gone to the polls. Or at least I would have invalidated the card. Or I'd set fire to the throne [no, too difficult].
And yes that "the country is real." But, frankly, I would prefer that it was not.
Anyway, my life has ill-defined colors in this period: the degree, Barcelona and then the first real trip with him, the days to follow, everything I slipped from his hands fast enough. I had a heart full and overflowing for a few weeks but now has taken over the complete inability to decide on a feeling, a mood, a disposition any. Negramaro I would say "poised". Not me. It's a little 'too' chenesarĂ dinoi "and I fear it is not for me.
are about two weeks I'm here, to Him I am well. Well as I happen to be only when I go to bed with him and I wake up in the morning with him: when sleep occurs while m'incastro in His embrace, and when the day I enter in my eyes and I'm there, with his belly against back, enjoying the happiness of your ridiculous regular breathing. I know which is pathetic. And it's not much to me. But right now my well-being has this address: I can not help it. Nor pretend to want to give it up, if only for half a day, I've had days where the pain came to tear the flesh to bite and chew off large pieces of me. There were empty abysmal, in my twenty three years of life, loneliness and a blind strike anywhere and with anyone, at any time of day and, most of the night, knowingly relying on the absolute certainty that I never had two good eyes in which lose abandoning any defense. I have to live this peace I can not spit up all hope - as unconvincing - they gave me to live in many years past to hurt me. It is not me that he has resolved his life, because sometimes it's all very complicated, but this speech does not make sense: I do not need to wonder whether it is right let me fall into your life hopefully. I just can not avoid it: He is the sensational show - semi mystical - that turns any security, almost like the beautiful sunset that makes you think for one second that God might really exist, in the end and beyond everything. He is the sunset. And He is the person to whom I would like to "want to be a better man, desperately. I is inevitable.
Ah. A year and a day from the film 'Sex and the City. One year from the "crossroads" and the night that I've freed from your arms even for a minute.
My life sense. Indeed, it has more than one. That of others I do not know.
Why do you have touched your perfect body with your mind.
The title of this post could be misleading: it I'm not going to talk about the election. Nausea, now complete and all-encompassing, has become a form of slumber slumbered idelogico-making: in other words, I was in Rome, however, even back in Calafrica, would not have gone to the polls. Or at least I would have invalidated the card. Or I'd set fire to the throne [no, too difficult].
And yes that "the country is real." But, frankly, I would prefer that it was not.
Anyway, my life has ill-defined colors in this period: the degree, Barcelona and then the first real trip with him, the days to follow, everything I slipped from his hands fast enough. I had a heart full and overflowing for a few weeks but now has taken over the complete inability to decide on a feeling, a mood, a disposition any. Negramaro I would say "poised". Not me. It's a little 'too' chenesarĂ dinoi "and I fear it is not for me.
are about two weeks I'm here, to Him I am well. Well as I happen to be only when I go to bed with him and I wake up in the morning with him: when sleep occurs while m'incastro in His embrace, and when the day I enter in my eyes and I'm there, with his belly against back, enjoying the happiness of your ridiculous regular breathing. I know which is pathetic. And it's not much to me. But right now my well-being has this address: I can not help it. Nor pretend to want to give it up, if only for half a day, I've had days where the pain came to tear the flesh to bite and chew off large pieces of me. There were empty abysmal, in my twenty three years of life, loneliness and a blind strike anywhere and with anyone, at any time of day and, most of the night, knowingly relying on the absolute certainty that I never had two good eyes in which lose abandoning any defense. I have to live this peace I can not spit up all hope - as unconvincing - they gave me to live in many years past to hurt me. It is not me that he has resolved his life, because sometimes it's all very complicated, but this speech does not make sense: I do not need to wonder whether it is right let me fall into your life hopefully. I just can not avoid it: He is the sensational show - semi mystical - that turns any security, almost like the beautiful sunset that makes you think for one second that God might really exist, in the end and beyond everything. He is the sunset. And He is the person to whom I would like to "want to be a better man, desperately. I is inevitable.
Ah. A year and a day from the film 'Sex and the City. One year from the "crossroads" and the night that I've freed from your arms even for a minute.
My life sense. Indeed, it has more than one. That of others I do not know.
Why do you have touched your perfect body with your mind.
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