On the Radio. Regina Spektor.
This is how it works It feels a little worse Than when we drove our hearse Right through that screaming crowd While laughing up a storm Until we were just bone Until it got so warm That none of us could sleep And all the Styrofoam Began to melt away We tried to find some words To aid in the decay But none of them were home Inside their catacomb A million ancient bees Began to sting our knees While...
Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that...
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Life is not governed by will or intention. Life is a question of nerves and...– -Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray
For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart. It was not my lips...