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♥♥♥♥♥♥Ever since your eyes Hit my eyes Ever since your eyes Hit my eyes Since then I've been mad Detached from everyone It feels like the lord has made me It feels like the lord has made me Ever since your eyes Hit my eyes
Mad, he seems mad Mad, he seems mad Since I got your sign I have been at unrest
Since I got your sign I have been at unrest Since these feelings grew There has been only silence Since they were joined The threads of our destinies Since then I've been mad Detached from everyone It feels like the lord has made me It feels like the lord has made me
Since we started together I've lost attention and peace
Since we started together I've lost attention and peace Since you shadowed me A magic has worked on me Since I obtained you My heart beats dhak dhak Since then I've been mad Detached from everyone It feels like the lord has made me It feels like the lord has made me Ever since your eyes Hit my eyes♥♥♥♥♥♥
Posted by ^KOCHAMCIE^ at 2008-07-22 20:25:12 PST(UTC-8H)
This famous wicked little tale Should never have been put on sale. It is a mystery to me Why loving parents cannot see That this is actually a book About a brazen little crook. Had I the chance I wouldn't fail To clap young Goldilocks in jail. Now just imagine how you'd feel If you had cooked a lovely meal, Delicious porridge, steaming hot, Fresh coffee in the coffee-pot, With maybe toast and marmalade, The table beautifully laid, One place for you and one for dad, Another for your little lad. Then dad cries, 'Golly-gosh! Gee-whizz! 'Oh cripes! How hot this porridge is! 'Let's take a walk along the street 'Until it's cool enough to eat.' He adds, 'An early morning stroll 'Is good for people on the whole. 'It makes your appetite improve 'It also helps your bowels to move.' No proper wife would dare to question Such a sensible suggestion, Above all not at breakfast-time When men are seldom at their prime
No sooner are you down the road Than Goldilocks, that little toad That nosy thieving little louse, Comes sneaking in your empty house. She looks around. She quickly notes Three bowls brimful of porridge oats. And while still standing on her feet, She grabs a spoon and starts to eat. I say again, how would you feel If you had made this lovely meal And some delinquent little tot Broke in and gobbled up the lot? But wait! That's not the worst of it! Now comes the most distressing bit. You are of course a house proud wife, And all your happy married life You have collected lovely things Like gilded cherubs wearing wings, And furniture by Chippendale Bought at some famous auction sale. But your most special valued treasure, The piece that gives you endless pleasure Is one small children's dining-chair, Elizabethan, very rare. It is in fact your joy and pride, Passed down to you on grandma's side. But Goldilocks, like many freaks, Does not appreciate antiques. She doesn't care, she doesn't mind, And now she plonks her fat behind Upon this dainty precious chair, And crunch! It busts beyond repair. A nice girl would at once exclaim, 'Oh dear! Oh heavens! What a shame!' Not Goldie. She begins to swear. She bellows, 'What a lousy chair!' And uses one disgusting word That luckily you've never heard. (I dare not write it, even hint it. Nobody would ever print it.) You'd think by now this little skunk Would have the sense to do a bunk. But no. I very much regret She hasn't nearly finished yet. Deciding she would like a rest, She says, 'Let's see which bed is best.' Upstairs she goes and tries all three. (Here comes the next catastrophe.) Most educated people choose To rid themselves of socks and shoes Before they clamber into bed. But Goldie didn't give a shred. Her filthy shoes were thick with grime, And mud and mush and slush and slime. Worse still, upon the heel of one Was something that a dog had done. I say once more, what would you think If all this horrid dirt and stink Was smeared upon your eiderdown By this revolting little clown? (The famous story has no clues To show the girl removed her shoes.) Oh, what a tale of crime on crime! Let's check it for a second time
Crime One, the prosecution's case: She breaks and enters someone's place
Crime Two, the prosecutor notes: She steals a bowl of porridge oats
Crime Three: She breaks a precious chair Belonging to the Baby Bear.
Crime Four: She smears each spotless sheet With filthy messes from her feet.
A judge would say without a blink, 'Ten years hard labour in the clink!' But in the book, as you will see, The little beast gets off scot-free, While tiny children near and far Shout, 'Goody-good! Hooray! Hurrah!' 'Poor darling Goldilocks!' they say, 'Thank goodness that she got away!' Myself, I think I'd rather send Young Goldie to a sticky end. 'Oh daddy!' cried the Baby Bear, 'My porridge gone! It isn't fair!' 'Then go upstairs,' the Big Bear said, 'Your porridge is upon the bed. 'But as it's inside mademoiselle, 'You'll have to eat her up as well.
Posted by simply*simon at 2008-07-22 07:10:54 PST(UTC-8H)
You wont be his first,his last,or his only
He's loved before,he will love again but if
He loves you now what else matters?
Hes not perfect,and neither are you
And the two of you will never be perfect
But if he makes you laugh at least once
Causes you think twice,and admits To being human,and making mistakes...
Hold on him,and give him all you\'ve got
He is not going to be thinking about you every moment But he will give you part of him,that he knows you can break
Dont hurt him,dont change him,dont expect Too much from him,smile when he makes you happy
Cry when he makes you sad and
Miss him when hes not here
Posted by SammyZ at 2008-07-21 09:01:01 PST(UTC-8H)
