Did you hear them call you . Did you hear the wind of dream just passing by . There is another whole world hanging there... upside down. Did you see them dress you . Did you feel your elbows tied up side by side . Someone has brought me a new straight costume... in an asylum.
In the mildness of the spring . You feel creepy like a worm . In your lost enchanted brain . You're proud to go. With the fairness of your skin . You feel funny in this world . In your lost enchanted brain . Weeping willow.
Did you hear them squeaking . Did you see your broken wings just flying by . They drop me in this fairground... abnormal.
Could you hear them howling . Could you breathe inside your well-known plastic bag . It was a mean to get away from this... accident.
In the mildness of the spring . You feel creepy like a worm . In your lost enchanted brain . Weeping willow. With the fairness of your skin . You feel funny in this world . In your lost enchanted dreams . You're proud to go... You're proud to go.
Novo ano, nova época automobilística. A F1 há muito que perdeu interesse. De maneira que foi procurar interessados aos Orientes e aos desertos.
Os últimos GPs que assisti (?) pela TV, deixavam-me a dormir duma forma infalível. Não fosse o meu desinteresse total pela F1 actual e a imagem abaixo de Tamara Ecclestone localizada neste post despertaria um outro interesse pela coisa.
Portanto, valham-nos as tâmaras dos desertos. Se as tiver à mão, comerei uma com gosto sempre que souber que há um GP.
Se há Tamaras e tâmaras, faltava a t'amara. Esta é aquela que acaba por encerrar este assunto de paixões +/- homófonas e da qual não me quero lembrar tão cedo: