January 2010
5 posts
Funeral Blues - W.H. Auden
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead. Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves, Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. He was my North, my...
“Dressed up to the eyes
It’s a wonderful surprise
To see your shoes and...”
– The Cure
“I’ve only known you for a week but it feels like years
Love the way you...”
– Audio Bullys
“In der Beschränkung zeigt sich der Meister”
– Goethe
“What am I supposed to do when the best part of me was always you
What am I...”
– The Script