Eire sick?
Is that a word? Who cares! I just made it one. Whilst roasting in Flanders by 38 centigrade, I'm thinking of the cool breeze blowing through my hair on the top of Killiney Hill (obviously some time ago...). The cemetery of Glendalough, the High Cross of Monasterboice, Connemara,...Still not to sure if this xenofobe piece of turf stuck between France and the Low Countries is any better than the Celtic plains... You Danny Boys are surely a though lot to get over (and don't get me started on the lasses...)
Is that a word? Who cares! I just made it one. Whilst roasting in Flanders by 38 centigrade, I'm thinking of the cool breeze blowing through my hair on the top of Killiney Hill (obviously some time ago...). The cemetery of Glendalough, the High Cross of Monasterboice, Connemara,...Still not to sure if this xenofobe piece of turf stuck between France and the Low Countries is any better than the Celtic plains... You Danny Boys are surely a though lot to get over (and don't get me started on the lasses...)
Your skin is cold
But the sun shines within your hold
Your hair is gold
But you see through a goldfish bowl
I feel old, sick, and tired
We walk the streets
Gently staring, wondering what to do
The sun in sheets
Pouring down those streets to eyes green and blue
And a ship with eight sails could come round the bend
Or a heard of bulls charging stop lights red
I'd be blind
You broke my heart, Danny boy
Not your fault, Danny boy
I was had at the doorstep
Played, like a two to a four-set
Had, like poor Job in the bible by god
Day comes, I wake
I wake with a hard heartache
I go down to your place
We sit and chat about New York
And trips to the Bayou
My smile, a trick
Tricking me and trying not to scare you
And a ship with eight sails could come round the bend
Or a heard of bulls charging stop lights red
I'd be blind
You broke my heart, Danny boy
Not your fault, Danny boy
I was had at the doorstep
Played, like a two to a four-set
Had, like poor Job in the bible by god
Wind blowing trough your 'hair'??? Weren't you wearing a shirt?
Posted by
Anonymous |
20 June, 2005 09:10
He prolly was, but if he stretched his arms, the curly bushes under his armpits were refreshed from left to right (ro vice versa, depending).
Posted by
vacuum419 |
20 June, 2005 10:29
Hij schrijft 't toch zelf "The wind blowing through my hair on the top..."
Bizar élève!
Posted by
DVLMN |
20 June, 2005 17:25
Well done!
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09 September, 2006 16:26
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09 September, 2006 16:26