simo s no man s land

« Au  fond ,  Dieu   veut  que l’ homme   désobéisse .  Désobéir , c’est   chercher .  »   Victor Hugo

Stay out super late tonight picking apples, making pies Put a little something in our lemonade and take it with us We're half awake in a fake empire We're half awake in a fake empire Tiptoe through our shiny city with our diamond slippers on Do our gay ballet on ice, bluebirds on our shoulders We're half awake in a fake empire We're half awake in a fake empire Turn the light out say goodnight, no thinking for a little while Let's not try to figure out everything at once It's hard to keep track of you falling through the sky We're half awake in a fake empire We're half awake in a fake empire "Fake empire"  By the National.

" You are here to watch over a heart That is broken by a word that somebody left unspoken You're the ghost of a romance in June going astray Fading too soon, that's why I say Farewell to you, Indian summer You old Indian summer " "Indian Summer " By :Frank Sinatra

Well Papa go to bed now it's getting late Nothing we can say is gonna change anything now I'll be leaving in the morning from St. Mary's Gate We wouldn't change this thing even if we could somehow Cause the darkness of this house has got the best of us There's a darkness in this town that's got us too But they can't touch me now And you can't touch me now They ain't gonna do to me What I watched them do to you So say goodbye it's Independence Day It's Independence Day All down the line Just say goodbye it's Independence Day It's Independence Day this time Now I don't know what it always was with us We chose the words, and yeah, we drew the lines There was just no way this house could hold the two of us I guess that we were just too much of the same kind We...

Photo by : simo34744 THE EVIL MONK by: Charles Baudelaire HE ancient cloisters on their lofty walls Had holy Truth in painted frescoes shown, And, seeing these, the pious in those halls Felt their cold, lone austereness less alone. At that time when Christ's seed flowered all around, More than one monk, forgotten in his hour, Taking for studio the burial ground, Glorified Death with simple faith and power. And my soul is a sepulchre where I, Ill cenobite, have spent eternity: On the vile cloister walls no pictures rise. O when may I cast off this weariness, And make the pageant of my old distress For these hands labour, pleasure for these eyes?

To my beautiful daughter SELMA JASMINE The Albatross Charles Baudelaire Often, to amuse themselves, the men of the crew Catch those great birds of the seas, the albatrosses, lazy companions of the voyage, who follow The ship that slips through bitter gulfs. Hardly have they put them on the deck, Than these kings of the skies, awkward and ashamed, Piteously let their great white wings Draggle like oars beside them. This winged traveler, how weak he becomes and slack! He who of late was so beautiful, how comical and ugly! Someone teases his beak with a branding iron, Another mimics, limping, the crippled flyer! The Poet is like the prince of the clouds, Haunting the tempest and laughing at the archer; Exiled on earth amongst the shouting people, His giant's wings hinder him from walking. — Translated by Geoffrey Wagner