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Weird Fishes
Heaven is not fit to house a love like you and I. C

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108 109
Weird Fishes
Heaven is not fit to house a love like you and I. C

Meer info weergeven

Momenteel offline

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CUIRARO HÃ

14 leden

Sporting

5.227 leden

com licença faxavor

2 leden

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Wax me, mold me / Heat the pins and stab them in / You have turned me into this / Just wish that it was bullet proof

+ 239

Dylan Thomas, 1947

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

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DEATH STRANDING DIRECTOR'S CUT

25 uur gespeeld

Run, rabbit, run
Dig that hole, forget the sun
When, at last, the work is done
Don't sit down, it's time to dig another one
Long you live and high you fly
But only if you ride the tide
Balanced on the biggest wave
You race towards an early grave

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That there, that's not me
I go where I please
I walk through walls, I float down the Liffey
I'm not here, this isn't happening
I'm not here, I'm not here
In a little while, I'll be gone
The moment's already passed
Yeah, it's gone and I'm not here
This isn't happening
I'm not here, I'm not here
Strobe lights and blown speakers
Fireworks and hurricanes
I'm not here, This isn't happening
I'm not here, I'm not here