bugün
- tai lung16
- aktrollerin ibb davasını takip etmeyi bırakması16
- iktidar değişince aktroller ne olacak sorunsalı14
- ameliyat olmak14
- hoşgörü dini islam11
- ateist dövmek11
- kemalistler16
- ulusalcılar4
- sözlük kızları neden böyle değil sorunsalı3
- türklerin pis olması8
- usualsuspect'in istemeyeceği en son durum5
- ümmetçiler4
- velvet52
- ona bir cümle bırak10
- chp de 26 il başkanının görevden alınması2
- yakışıklı olmanın faydaları5
- erector dedemiz5
- aktif gay3
- kylie jenner4
- almanya milli futbol takımı2
- velvet hanımkızımız8
- seni ne mutlu eder sorusu4
- hergün dondurma yenir mi4
- denize girmek3
- 0 0 719
- muşlettin amca2
- fatır suresi 41 ayet3
- tl4
- ahmet burak erdoğan8
- sarapci koala4
- israil10
- türkiye14
- kylian mbappe2
- hiçbir şey bilmeyip üst kademede çalışmak5
- sevgililer nerede seks yapıyor9
- rüyalar gerçek olsaydı3
- aşure vs waffle8
- türk kahvesi eşlikçisi6
- iremga3
- waffle2
- futbol33
- bugün ne yaptınız6
- kadın yazarların daha fazla oylanıp takip edilmesi6
- akepede kliklerin savaşı11
- selam sözlük2
- bu hesap gizlidir2
- swinger2
- kürtler sizden nefret ediyor5
- kadir mısıroğlu'nun soyu20
- evli kadınla beraber olmak4
1984 tarihli marillion albümü, albümün kendisiyle aynı adı taşıyan kapanış parçası. steve rothery'nin solo nasıl atılır sorusuna verdiği en güzel cevaplardan birisi.
Vodka intimate, an affair with isolation in a blackheath cell,
Extinguishing the fires in a private hell,
Provoking the heartache to renew the license.
Of a bleeding heart poet in a fragile capsule,
Propping up the crust of the glitter conscience.
Wrappped in the christening shard of a hangover,
baptized in tears from the real, tears from the real...
Drowning in the liquid seas on the picadilly line, rat-race,
scuttling through the damp electric labyrinth.
(Caress Ophelia's hand with breaststroke ambition,
The albatross courtship marrytime tradition.)
Sheathed with the walkman wear the halo of distortion,
aural contraceptive aborting pregnant conversation.
(But she turned the harpoon and it pierced my heart,
she hung herself around my neck.)
>From the Time-Life guardians in their conscience bubbles,
safe and dry in my sea of troubles.
Nine to Fives, with suitable ties,
While I'm cast adrift as their sideshow, (sideshow),
peepshow, (peepshow), stereo hero,
becalm, bestill, bewitch, drowning, drowning in the real...
The thief of Bagdad hides in Islington now,
praying deportation for his sacred cow.
A legacy of romance from a twilight world,
the dowry of a relative mystery girl.
A Vietnamese flower, a dockland union,
a mistress of release from a magazine's thighs.
This magdalene contracts more than favours,
the feeding hands of western promise hold her by the throat.
A son of the swastika of 45,' parading a peroxide standard.
Graffitti disciples conjure testaments of hatred.
Aerosol wands whisper where the searchlights trim the barbed wire hedges.
This is Brixton chess,
A knight for embankments - folds his newspaper castle,
a creature of habit, begs the boatman's coin,
He'll fade with old soldiers - in the grease stained roll call,
linger with the heartburn of good friday's last supper.
Son watches father scan obituary columns,
in search of absent school friends.
While his generation digests high-fiber ignorance,
cowering behind curtains and the taped up, painted windows.
Decriminalized genocide, provided door to door Belsens.
Pandora's box of holocausts,
gracefully cruising satellite infested heavens,
Waiting, wait..waiting the season of the button,
the penultimate migration,
Radioactive perfumes for the fashionably,
for the terminally insane ... insane
Do do do do do do you realize,
Do do do do do do you realize,
Do do do do do do you realize,
This world is totally fugazi!
Where are the prophets, where are the visionaries,
where are the poets, to breach the dawn of the sentimental mercenary.
Vodka intimate, an affair with isolation in a blackheath cell,
Extinguishing the fires in a private hell,
Provoking the heartache to renew the license.
Of a bleeding heart poet in a fragile capsule,
Propping up the crust of the glitter conscience.
Wrappped in the christening shard of a hangover,
baptized in tears from the real, tears from the real...
Drowning in the liquid seas on the picadilly line, rat-race,
scuttling through the damp electric labyrinth.
(Caress Ophelia's hand with breaststroke ambition,
The albatross courtship marrytime tradition.)
Sheathed with the walkman wear the halo of distortion,
aural contraceptive aborting pregnant conversation.
(But she turned the harpoon and it pierced my heart,
she hung herself around my neck.)
>From the Time-Life guardians in their conscience bubbles,
safe and dry in my sea of troubles.
Nine to Fives, with suitable ties,
While I'm cast adrift as their sideshow, (sideshow),
peepshow, (peepshow), stereo hero,
becalm, bestill, bewitch, drowning, drowning in the real...
The thief of Bagdad hides in Islington now,
praying deportation for his sacred cow.
A legacy of romance from a twilight world,
the dowry of a relative mystery girl.
A Vietnamese flower, a dockland union,
a mistress of release from a magazine's thighs.
This magdalene contracts more than favours,
the feeding hands of western promise hold her by the throat.
A son of the swastika of 45,' parading a peroxide standard.
Graffitti disciples conjure testaments of hatred.
Aerosol wands whisper where the searchlights trim the barbed wire hedges.
This is Brixton chess,
A knight for embankments - folds his newspaper castle,
a creature of habit, begs the boatman's coin,
He'll fade with old soldiers - in the grease stained roll call,
linger with the heartburn of good friday's last supper.
Son watches father scan obituary columns,
in search of absent school friends.
While his generation digests high-fiber ignorance,
cowering behind curtains and the taped up, painted windows.
Decriminalized genocide, provided door to door Belsens.
Pandora's box of holocausts,
gracefully cruising satellite infested heavens,
Waiting, wait..waiting the season of the button,
the penultimate migration,
Radioactive perfumes for the fashionably,
for the terminally insane ... insane
Do do do do do do you realize,
Do do do do do do you realize,
Do do do do do do you realize,
This world is totally fugazi!
Where are the prophets, where are the visionaries,
where are the poets, to breach the dawn of the sentimental mercenary.
Gündemdeki Haberler