"No vazio da infinita escuridão, junto com o silêncio, no infinito, um sentimento se move, algo, obscuro, que cresce no escuro... ... e numa conclusão lógica, o silêncio se percebe assim como se sente... ... ... a saudade!!!"
Nirvana - Gallons Of Rubbing Alcohol Flow Through The Strip
It hurts when you have to press that dull little thing that you're only supposed to use once and then discard. Where do you put it? In the garbage can, my honest friend. My shyness, pet her flow.
She's only been five months late, even though we haven't had sex for a week.
A meal a day, a meal, I say. And my heart's made my
Somebody else already used the word aurora borealis. She was tied up in chains, and Sam had helped her in the freezer.
She's only five weeks late, and I haven't had a date forever ever...ever...forever!
Wish I had more...more opportunity, more chances to remember some things so I couldn't have so much pressure on my... on my...on my, um...ah, on my...um...um...head.
We'd have so much more diversity, and so much more input, so much more creative flow, if we had someone in school, a (GIT)
GIT...geeks...in...town. Ha!...Come on, Dave, think of one Girls In Trouble It should be GIC, geeks with Charvels No, GWC
Fuck, man, this is a waste of time! (laughs) One more solo? Yeahhhhhhhhh! Yeaaaahhhhh!
You're personally responsible for the entire strip...to be washed away cleansed...as if gallons of, um, rubbing alcohol flowed through the strip and were set on fire.
It didn't just singe the hair, it made it straight.
And then Perry Ellis came along with his broom, and his...silk and he...he erected a beautiful city a city of stars.
amiga.... naum fik asssin....eu t amo...por isu naunk pens q vamos nos afastar pq naum vamos....eu t amo mt...da minha forma...e vc m ama da sua...naum fik trist ....é q eu tenhu medu d fikar muito proximo das minhas amigas....pois sempre q fiko asim...a amizade acaba...e naum qero iso pra gent....
Um beijo, um lugar....um túmulo profanado.Pelo cemitério em brumas , ele partiae vestida de amor, mistério e pecado,invadia o sonho daquele que dormia.Ele, alma nostálgica, sabor do passadoe que orvalhava triste sobre a campa frianão esperava fantasma ressuscitadoA amar-lhe na treva em doce melancoliaQunado seu sangue ardente percorreu-lhe o peitojunto às sombras nupciais naquele leito,uma epopeia tenebrosa ali fluiaE ao fim desse maneirismo que a luz encerra,ela retornava ao seu leito sob a terra,ele de afãs crespusculares só morria....
"a morte é um sentimento e um fato
naum uma açao... pois a mort qandu s pensa, s age perde u sentido...