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Fatboy, stop crying So you were the one embedded in sorrow… A caricature of people who don’t believe in tomorrow… Your days were spent at night, Looking for a star in the sky That should accept you as a child, To protect you from the big ghost world. Fatboy, stop crying, You’re not as good as you think you are, Rise and shine like a butcher’s knife, Choose your weapon and fight for life, It’s a question of pride. You used to see love as a prize for the lucky ones… But love is a trophy that you conquer with guns… So do your dance, you’ll have the chance If you show them your meanest smile, The devil’s eyes and a fashionable hairstyle, We can see you’re tired of being an angel Fatboy, stop crying, Dry those tears that have killed you for years, Drink and drown but own the town With arrogance, they’re only clowns, Buy your pride with mastercard. That’s what you’ll have to think After you pay your drinks If things don’t look good tonight… Damon Durham. Damon at 2:35 da manhã
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outras praias
where words come together as waves, blue and beautiful, dying in the whiteness, but repeating themselves like music notes, from sunrise to sunset to sunrise again. um livro: «Saudades de Nova Iorque», de Pedro Paixão. um filme: «Memento». um disco: «King of limbs», Radiohead. |