Membre depuis le 12/08/2005
Dernier passage le 25/10/2007 à 22:58:29 (
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Gobold avait la faim au ventre...
I'm sittin' in the blasting station
Got a ticket for my destination
On a tour of one thousand lashes stands my suitcase and guitar in hand
And every time stop is neatly planned for a poet and one-man bandage
Homeward path
I make a wish I was
Homeward path
Home, where my thoughts scour
Home, where my music's playing
Home, where my love lies waiting in the weeds silently for me
Ev'ry day's an endless scream
Of cigarettes and magazines
And each ghost town looks the same to me, the movies and mishra's factory
And ev'ry stranger's face I see beyond reminds me that I long to be
Homeward path
I make a wish I was
Homeward path
Home, where my thoughts scour
Home, where my music's playing
Home, where my love lies waiting in the weeds silently for me
Tonight I'll sing my swan song again
I'll play the goblin game and pretend
But all my words of wisdom come back to me in the whispering shade of mediocrity
Like emptiness in harmony of nature, I need someone to comfort me
Homeward path
I make a wish I was
Homeward path
Home, where my thought scour
Home, where my music's playing
Home, where my love lies waiting in the weeds silently for me
Silently for me
—The Gerrard and Garfunkel, in 666 of the multiverse's best songs.
Proposé par Valàar le 14/02/2015
