tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-79126772763494928452024-03-08T03:04:14.891-08:00No Blog Needst_darwinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10641948654649326243noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7912677276349492845.post-86573963351662513302008-12-18T13:49:00.000-08:002008-12-18T14:22:16.007-08:00Το soundtrack των Αγίων Ημερών...που διανίουμε.<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/JwD5Jk7fJb4&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/JwD5Jk7fJb4&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>st_darwinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10641948654649326243noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7912677276349492845.post-14121788824693070852008-10-04T14:07:00.000-07:002008-10-04T14:37:33.894-07:00Underworld - Ring Road<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/zkLRSfX0rDY&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/zkLRSfX0rDY&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"></object>Underworld - Ring Road<br /><br /><span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;" >I want you to be the way<br />i want you to be<br />and when you're not<br />it hurts me<br />like shredded tape<br />something sticky<br />for security<br />wrapped tight around a metal box<br />to imitate security<br />there's a blue sky over me<br />but the fear is on me<br /><br />in a place where ball games are strictly forbidden<br />luxury 2-bedroomed apartments<br />overlook the traffic lights<br />next to the rails<br />it's a hot day<br />it's a, it's a hot day<br />a lazy day for some<br />but i'm bringing from the inside<br />all these things<br /><br />i see a wall<br />i know it's gonna fall down<br />maybe hurt somebody<br />after it's been<br />tagged and fly posted<br />it's a rush job<br />it looks good for long enough<br />knock em out and sell em<br />move on<br />it's a fast buck<br />and the race is on<br />to get in get out<br />get what you want<br />get out<br />it's the short-term<br />the long-term can look after itself<br />unless you happen to be living here<br />i've got to stop<br /><br />(chorus)<br />people are squinting to block out the sun<br />complaining or soaking it up<br />praying for rain the next minute<br />for a scorched earth<br />what's it worth<br />enough is never<br />enough<br />let's have a little moan<br />put the world to right<br />sit back and watch it all slide by<br />it's a view from a train<br />pay somebody else to drive<br />see the suits<br />i see the suits sunning themselves on the steps<br />of the supermarket<br />and i think of you and i'm alone like this<br />burning from the inside<br /><br />i found a new door<br />i didn't know where it went<br />i went through<br />i came out in this shopping mall where<br />boys wear england shirts<br />and west ham shirts and arsenal shirts<br />and the boys from dagenham wear jackets<br />called harlem<br />grinning at the door at the<br />Ann Summers sex shop<br />it's st. georges day<br />and all the old people smile<br />the young people look hungry<br />looking for a new door<br />i'm in the sun<br />at the back of the shops<br />where the purple weed thins are pushed against the doors that say<br />fire exit<br />the smell of grease<br />there's a broken glass thing under my feet<br />the boys stop for a smoke in the sun<br />and watch girls cross from the job centre<br />to the station<br />a drunk stands in the door of a pub<br />a bunch of pea sticks in one hand<br />a cheery carrier bag<br />hanging in the other<br />hanging in the other<br /><br />girls in england shirts read the papers<br />and giggle at the table in the cafe<br />offering homemade dinners<br />it's good food<br />but your clothes come out smelling of grease<br />i got my back to the rail at the end of the ally<br />by the bypass you might have seen me<br />scratching all these things<br />inking it out<br />deliver us from temptation<br />and doubt<br />there's an abandoned trolley<br />call safe at radio 1<br /><br />on and on and on<br />and another england shirt out in the sun<br />spring falls in pink<br />on the blacktop and cracks<br />black and yellow tape covers the scene, of a break in<br />and every time i think of you i get my peace back<br /></span>st_darwinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10641948654649326243noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7912677276349492845.post-67372412511171770852008-10-03T12:29:00.000-07:002008-10-03T12:30:29.057-07:00<a href="http://vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoid=43774435">Radiohead - Reckoner - by Clement Picon</a><br/><object width="425px" height="360px"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="movie" value="http://mediaservices.myspace.com/services/media/embed.aspx/m=43774435,t=1,mt=video"><embed src="http://mediaservices.myspace.com/services/media/embed.aspx/m=43774435,t=1,mt=video" width="425" height="360" allowfullscreen="true" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object>st_darwinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10641948654649326243noreply@blogger.com1