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scatterheart

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S. João Revisited [25 Jun 2003|04:14pm]
[ mood | indifferent ]

Feito de esperas. Mas o primeiro atraso merece perdão, não foi intencional.
Jantar (nada) tradicional, no albergue dos pobrezinhos (Mc Sardinha esgotado!).
Apesar das esperas e dos silêncios (cansaço, apenas cansaço...) a noite foi agradável.
Já na foz vimos o Wally (não o animal, o Afonso mesmo!), bem como um monte de personagens da turma do lado do meu 9º ano: o óculo, a miúda chata, etc. E a Ana... a Cardoso... que sensação claustrofóbica!
Desencatou-me a praia. Que é feito das fogueiras e dos ritos "Anyone can play guitar"?

Ponto mais alto da noite: Eu a Ana e o Luís, nos Aliados (em frente ao imperial) divertidos em guerra aberta com os papeis da festa da cerveja, em substituição dos típicos martelos.

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The day... [25 Jun 2003|04:55pm]
[ mood | tired ]

Frequência de História Contemporânea. Correu mal... Pudera, ontem preferi passar o dia inteiro a ouvir a "The Night", em vez de estudar. Um "inventanço" aqui, outro a ali... pode ser que cole.

Autocarro: liamos livros da mesma coleção e envergávamos meias do Winnie the Pooh. Há coincidências (ou não) estranhamente hilariantes!




You're the night, Lilah. A little girl lost in the woods.
You're a folk tale, the unexplainable

You're a bedtime story. The one that keeps the curtains closed.
I hope you're waiting for me cause I can make it on my own.
I can make it on my own.

It's too dark to see the landmarks. I don't want your good luck charms.
I hope you're waiting for me across your carpet of stars.
You're the night, Lilah. You're everything that we can't see.
Lilah, you're the possibility.

You're the bedtime story. The one that keeps the curtains closed.
And I hope you're waiting for me cause I can make it on my own.
I can make it on my own.

Unknown the unlit world of old. You're the sounds I never heard before.
Off the map where the wild things grow. Another world outside my door.
Here I stand I'm all alone. Drive me down the pitch black road.
Lilah you're my only home and I can't make it on my own.

You're a bedtime story. The one that keeps the curtains closed.
And I hope you're waiting for me cause I can make it on my own.
I can make it on my own.

You're the paint can falling off the wall at the door that slams at the end
of the hall where the kid rings sounds of basketball. The battle of the
earth of the angels. The shifting snow drifts so realistic, so realistic -
call you carpet of stars. See there is something in the yard. It's awful
dark. With the painted strings, the cross, the good luck charm, the prayer,
the extra layer. The group ???...






víceo... :)

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