Traducció: Dijous. Fletxa del temps.
Traducció: Dijous. Guerra de Tot el temps.
And I keep lookin' in my watch And time keeps passin' by Cause I got you up on my mind Thinkin' bout the days When you were mine Now all I wanna do is
: Si fuera mas guapa y un poco mas lista Si fuera especial, si fuera de revista Tendria el valor de cruzar el vagon Y preguntarte quien eres. Te sientas
: And I keep lookin' in my watch And time keeps passin' by Cause I got you up on my mind Thinkin' bout the days When you were mine Now all I wanna do
Thursday morning waking And lots of people crying But I thought I saw angels there Flying through the charnel air They whispered don't you worry For
Si fuera mas guapa y un poco mas lista Si fuera especial, si fuera de revista Tendria el valor de cruzar el vagon Y preguntarte quien eres. Te sientas
In the veins of the ultraviolet light, the phosphor is starting a fire shooting up in the iodine; its turning on (rupture) rupture the wall around my
three chalk outlines sleep in the dirty street and in our beds, under the sheets, they're the halo of guilt hanging around your neck, next to the
Falling from the top floor your lungs fill like parachutes windows go rushing by. people inside, dressed for the funeral in black and white. These
Lights out on Division Street and all the hate that rises through the cracks in the pavement, as the temperature falls. (This is where is hits the
this is a war we live and the sides are drawn (the sides are drawn). and we're all wrapped up in fatigues and they wear us out (wear us out). there is
[Originally by Sigur Ros] [Original - Icelandic] heftur me? gaddavir i kjaftinum sem bl??ir mig l?stur er loka?ur inn i buri dyr nakinn ber a mig og
The stage is set to rip the wings from a butterfly, the stage is set, don't forget to breathe, between lines if the whole world dies, then it's safe
this is what you see when you look in my direction: incandescent corsets draw eyes tight like wires. this is how it feels, calling out but no one even
The rain falls up off the street The clocks turn back in retreat Footsteps fall off of our feet I can see the tears crawling up your cheek It's turning
steps ascend to a loaded gun. the scent of matches hangs in the air (a lit one flickers out in a hearbeat). we don't want to see this: a flash of light