“what’s the song of the summer” ?? it’s DANCING IN THE DARK by bruce springsteen for the 40th year in a row
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can we start calling it slash again.
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MILK & BLACK SPIDERS - Foals
Cause I’ve been around two times and found that you’re the only thing I need!
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i need to fold him in ways not even ikea could come up with
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people online dont take or post enough pictures of alex robertshaw. yes i know hes always making some fucking Face but come on put the effort in
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Mods? Take him to the stump of his favorite childhood tree.
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PartII:MISSINGNO.27 | PartI
My hinterland sleeps and the dream disappears,
counting cows and stones and walls and
the print-relief of a thousand ideas wasted on
nothing but leaves. You begged me to bury you
how many times and all I could do was forget it,
slowly, zooming out until everything’s specks
of light over the horizon.
We could have been missing a hundred years more
and still they would find us, here in the hay barn,
cells cascading and remembering water, the trickle,
the lake in the background, the picture you pictured
when the lights went out and all we could hear were the echoes.
A mine is a mine until it’s filled in, extracting stone
and replacing its birthright, England come to claim its tundras
below us, glistening, silent and breathing over
the roiling glass of sunlight into the mists and there I am, alive,
right on the edge of it, missing and missing and missing you
endless.
Morn on the moor is no time for mourning though,
belaying the order to get back to work and choosing, briefly,
becoming a bird, watcher the wilderness underneath all of it.
Stunning, you look, there as a backdrop and this I’ll remember,
sinking into the ground together, simultaneously living and dead
like soil or ghosts.
I’ll hold a rock in my hand from up there, carry it with me, looking at clouds
roll off in the distance and think of the pit, the drowning and stutter, linking arms
and staring it down: the bulldozer, digger, chainsaws repeating and repeating and
stopped. The tree fallen, you fallen, the ring-ring-a-rosies rise from the screaming, choral
and stuffed full of feathers.
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Yannis @ Le Bataclan by Emilie Bardalou for Bataclan’s web // 14.05.2019 // Paris, France
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