Mes mecs et moi... et moi... et moi... et MOUAH???

y'a le temps... y'a le boulot... y'a des trucs qui me perturbent... en gros, je pourrais te pondre une vraie note bien déprimante... si j'avais le temps...

 

Je laisse Alex et Miles te plomber le moral à ma place (perso, j'écoute ça dans la bagnole en ce moment, et c'est à l'intérieur qu'il faut que je fasse fonctionner les essuie-glace...)

 

 

 

The time has come again.
Slowly walking down the steps,
To where she would have been,
If only they were seventeen.

Waiting patiently,
Stood between a fraying seem.
Hiding from himself,
As well as everybody else.

Without permission his face became wet,
He thought that he'd learned how to not to get upset.
From folded notes in envelopes,
Meet me beneath the moon.
Don't go too soon.
She went too soon.

The time has come again.
Slowly walking down the steps,
To where she would have been,
If only they were seventeen

... j'en profite pour te donner un petit signe de vie... en musique (ptain, deux jours qu'elle me trotte dans la tête, celle-là... RAUS!)

 

(when we walked the streets together,

All the faces seemed to smile back,

And now the pavements have nothing to offer,

And all the faces seem to need a slap)

 

 

et celle-là aussi, tiens...

(pis avec toutes les paroles en dessous, pour les fluents en angliche)

 

 

 

The colder the night gets,
The further she strays.
And he doesn't like it,
Being this way.
And she tried so hard to steer away from the meeting place,
But her heart had led her there.

She clings to his consciousness,
Wherever he lays.
He struggles to sleep at night and during the day
He's worried she's waiting in his dreams to drag him back to the meeting place.
His love had left him there
Where her voice still echoes.
I'm sorry I met you darling,
I'm sorry I met you.
As she turned into the night, all he had was the words,
I'm sorry I met you darling,
I'm sorry I left you.

For weeks they had strolled around,
Playing the fools.
They knew the time would come and time would be cruel
Because it is cruel to everyone
He's crying out from the meeting place
He's stranded himself there

Where her voice still echoes,
I'm sorry I met you darling,
I'm sorry I met you.
As she turned into the night, all he had was the words,
I'm sorry I met you darling,
I'm sorry I left you.

 

[t'échappe pas, y'a un édit météorologique à la fin de la note! Spéciale dédicace à Gazelle et Pimousse!]



ok, je sais, je radote...

non, je ne suis pas bourrée... (pas encore)

et si, si, je suis toujours à fond dans le dernier album des Guns, mais de temps en temps, je reviens à la sobriété et au talent qui tue sa race d'Alex Turner (ça détend)

ps: j'ai déjà dû poster ça en deezer, en mode you-tube, mais pas cette vidéo, je ne la connaissais pas... (la faute à Axl ... ho! faut suivre! Y'a Axl -la diva- et Alex -le surdoué-... ça va, là?)

Bon, de toutes façons, tu t'en fous, je me casse...



(et si t'aimes, tu vas voir ICI ou LA... ce qui ne t'empêche pas d'aller voir aussi ICI ... voilà)


EDIT: le canal du midi tard hier soir:

Une de mes doc roses (c'était ça ou du patinage artistique... hihihi):