« Moi, fils d'alcoolique, gosse abandonné, j'ai tordu le coup à la fatalité. C'est ma fierté »
Son premier instinct était toujours le même : préserver le passé. Occulter le futur. Pour que rien ne change au présent. Jamais.
A little old man and i fell out. I'll tell you what it was all about. He had money, and I had none, And that's the way the noise begun.
A man of words and not of deeds
Is like a garden full of weeds
And when the weeds begin to grow
It's like a garden full of snow
And when the snow begins to fall
It's like a bird upon the wall
And when the bird away does fly
It's like an eagle in the sky
And when the sky begins to roar
It's like a lion at the door
And when the door begins to crack
It's like a stick across your back
And when your back begins to smart
It's like a penknife in your heart
And when your heart begins to bleed
You're dead, and dead, and dead indeed.
Imogen Heap ♥