post new years eve
1.2.10
5.1.10
3.1.10
Portishead: Roads
Oh, can't anybody see,
We've got a war to fight,
Never found our way,Regardless of what they say.
How can it feel, this wrong,
From this moment,
How can it feel, this wrong.
Storm,
In the morning light,
I feel,
No more can I say,
Frozen to myself.
I got nobody on my side,
And surely that ain't right,
Surely that ain't right.
Oh, can't anybody see,
We've got a war to fight,
Never found our way,
Regardless of what they say.
How can it feel, this wrong,
From this moment,
How can it feel, this wrong.
How can it feel this wrong,
From this moment,
How can it feel, this wrong.
Oh, can't anybody see,
We've got a war to fight,
Never found our way,
Regardless of what they say.
How can it feel, this wrong,
From this moment,
How can it feel, this wrong.
Portishead: Roads
Κωνσταντίνος Π. Καβάφης
Εν τω Mηνί Aθύρ
Με δυσκολία διαβάζω στην πέτρα την αρχαία.
«Κύ[ρι]ε Ιησού Χριστέ». Ένα «Ψυ[χ]ήν» διακρίνω.
«Εν τω μη[νί] Aθύρ» «Ο Λεύκιο[ς] ε[κοιμ]ήθη».
Στη μνεία της ηλικίας «Εβί[ωσ]εν ετών»,
το Κάππα Ζήτα δείχνει που νέος εκοιμήθη.
Μες στα φθαρμένα βλέπω «Aυτό[ν]... Aλεξανδρέα».
Μετά έχει τρεις γραμμές πολύ ακρωτηριασμένες·
μα κάτι λέξεις βγάζω — σαν «δ[ά]κρυα ημών», «οδύνην»,
κατόπιν πάλι «δάκρυα», και «[ημ]ίν τοις [φ]ίλοις πένθος».
Με φαίνεται που ο Λεύκιος μεγάλως θ’ αγαπήθη.
Εν τω μηνί Aθύρ ο Λεύκιος εκοιμήθη.
(Από τα Ποιήματα 1897-1933, Ίκαρος 1984)
Those, those beautiful boys
Those, those beautiful boys
Born illegitimately
To a whore, most likely
He became an orphanOh what a lovely orphan he was
Sent to the reformatory
Ten years old, was his first glory
Got caught stealing from a nun
Now his love story had begun
Thirty years he spent wandering
A devil's child with dove wings
He went to prison
In every country he set foot in
Oh how he loved prison
How awfully lovely was prison
All those beautiful boys
Pimps and queens and criminal queers
All those beautiful boys
Tattoos of ships and tattoos of tears
His greatest love was executed
The pure romance was undisputed
Angelic hoodlums and holy ones
Angelic hoodlums and holy ones
All those beautiful boys
Pimps and queens and criminal queers
All those beautiful boys
Tattoos of ships and tattoos of tears
All those beautiful boys
Pimps and queens and criminal queers
All those beautiful boys
Tattoos of ships and tattoos of tears
All those beautiful boys
Beautiful boys...
All those beautiful boys
Beautiful boys...
Those beautiful boys...
Cocorosie feat. Antony + the johnsons: Beautiful boyz
Blonde Readhead: The dress
Tears you see on my face, you do have something to do with
Fear starts creeping up when you have so much to lose
Your love waits you while you're cheating
Lightning strikes you when you're moving
The light you see in my eyes, you do have something to do with
Play the game namely love, play it like you have nothing to lose
Horse loves you when you move with him
People hate you when you're changing
Don't let the dress trick you
I love you less now that I know you
I won't count the scars again
I love you less now that I know you
The glow you see on my face, you do have something to do with
Fear starts creeping up when you have so much to lose
Your love wait you while you're cheating
Lighting strikes you when you're moving
Don't let me wonder away
I love you less now that I know you
Don't let the dress trick you
I love you less now that I know you
I won't count the scars again
Because I love you
Blonde Redhead: The dress
Florence + the machine: My boy builds coffins
My boy builds coffins with hammers and nails
He doesn't build ships, he has no use for sails
He doesn't make tables, dressers or chairs
He can't carve a whistle cause he just doesn't care
My boy builds coffins for the rich and the poor
Kings and Queens they've all knocked on his door
Beggars and liars, gypsies and thieves
They all come to him cause he's so eager to please
My boy builds coffins he makes them all day
But it's not just for work and it isn't for play
He's made one for himself
One for me too
One of these days he'll make one for you
My boy builds coffins for better or worse
Some say its a blessing, some say its a curse
He fits them together in sunshine or rain
Each one is unique, no two are the same
My boy builds coffins and I think it's a shame
That when each ones been made, he can't see it again
He crafts every one with love and with care
Then it's thrown in the ground, it just isn't fair
My boy builds coffins he makes them all day
But it's not just for work and it isn't for play
He's made one for himself
One for me too
One of these days he'll make one for you
florence + the machine: My boy builds coffins
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