
Whatever happened to Tuesday and so slow?
Usually the lines grow faint
Like old house paint
Just a way to mark the years gone by
You lay on a couch three weeks
Until the color came back into your cheeks
The sweet parade the morning brings
The drifters wearing angel wings
The hard distorted hymns they sing
So sad the night is over
Cili dan pišem prolog, barem ideju prologa, stavljam pred sebe nekakvu temu, ali puštam misli da se same formiraju u rečenice. Ja ću ih samo prepisivat iz glave. Za temu sam nekako postiga konsenzus sa samim sobom; rast! Nešto što svi prolazimo iz dana u dan, sa svakim malim dijalogom u koji se upustimo. Nekad je to nagli, bolni rast, gubitak koordinacije, nešto ka da preko lita narasteš 10 cm. Međutim, uglavnom je to polagani rast, suptilne mijene mišljenja, osjećaja i/ili senzornih doživljaja. I tako mi rastemo, a niti ne primjetimo, samo su mi najednom gaće prekratke.
Numere idu jedna za drugom ovako:

autor: DonTravolta, 18/06/2021
Arhiva

Usually the lines grow faint
Like old house paint
Just a way to mark the years gone by
You lay on a couch three weeks
Until the color came back into your cheeks

I could dance all night like I’m a soul boy
But I know I’d rather drag myself across the dance floor

So scorn divine and mourn the pride
The cold has spoken and drawn the line
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