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We know of an ancient radiation
That haunts dismembered constellations,
A faintly glimmering radio station.
While Frank Sinatra sings Stormy Weather,
The flies and spiders get along together,
Cobwebs fall on an old skipping record.
Beyond the suns that guard this roof,
Beyond your flowers of flaming truths,
Beyond your latest ad campaigns,
An old man sits collecting stamps
In a room all filled with Chinese lamps.
He saves what others throw away.
He says that he’ll be rich some day.
We know of an ancient radiation
That haunts dismembered constellations,
A faintly glimmering radio station.
We know of an ancient radiation
That haunts dismembered constellations,
A faintly glimmering radio station.
While Frank Sinatra sings Stormy Weather,
The flies and spiders get along together,
Cobwebs fall on an old skipping record.
Reageer als eerste.
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Maar vandaag was ‘t toch nog goe…
Si eres cualquier cosa como mÃ, odias el pensamiento del gasto cuarenta horas a la semana en un trabajo del punto muerto. Las luces fluorescentes de zumbido, la gerencia idiota, el hecho de que necesitas despertar doloroso temprano – el único alto punto son que viene viernes cada semana. Dije tan a me, allà me consigo ser una manera mejor. ¡Una cierta manera de hacer el dinero que me deja fijar mis propias horas y hacer una cantidad cómoda del dinero!