Put a dollar into the machine

The last day of the year is like any other normal day for me. nothing changes except another year starts...but life keeps going on the same direction.


The ending of a cycle is when life is intense, something that makes your life turn, gives a new horizon, different perspectives, new memories to remember and to think about..like that hug in the airport some years a ago. Começo e o fim.


To remember:



M. Ward - Post War
Don't they love you in mysterious ways
You say yeah but this is now and that was then
Put a dollar into the machine and you'll remember when
I know when everything feels wrong
I've got some hard, hard proof in this song
I'll know when everything feels right
Some lucky night
Some lucky night
Say the money just ain't what it used to be
Man how we used to tear apart this town
Put a dollar into the machine and you'll remember how
I know when everything feels wrong
I've got some hard, hard proof in this song
I'll know when everything feels right
Some lucky night
Some lucky night

E pra ser prosaico, ainda faz frio..muito frio. -15

In a sentimental mood

-6.
cold
Norkolk and Western - Dusk in cold Parlours

















At dawn after dusk

What`s your price on poverty?
No, I don't believe in all the signs you tie to faith
Faith is just for those who need it most, and the rest pretend that they`re all blessed
What's your price on brotherhood?
No, I don`t help with all the idle time I waste, cause time is all I have to brace myself for the dwell I pretend to possess
What`s your price on commodities? Yes, I do feel the need for all those tools of sound, cause without song we`ll lose our sight of God, not the God that tells them they're all blessed.



Jealousy, It's true 


A battle is the goal, but apathy, it takes you and grinds you into a filtered mind
And idle time, it's true, it grabs you like a stronghold curse, and teases you with a breakthrough, too

And jealousy, it's true, when blue looks different from my brush, but we all use the same brand ink

And holidays aren't enough to clear the space, and space is all that I have to fill my foreign grace

And on my way to work, the bus is filled with vacant stares
The evidence of pain so rare
So everyone is numb, or everyone they hide it all, and I don't want to hear their falls 

                                                  God Jul...

Or life is not a movie, or maybe




hoje amanheceu assim, chuva de açucar confeiteiro.

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