Фредерик

M.I.A. - Paper Planes

Destin si tragique....


Rempli de cruauté qu'ont ne peut parfois pas évité....


Pourquoi tant d'abominabilité....


Pourquoi toujours nous emprisonner dans de la solitude....


Et nous faire souffrir....


Pourquoi ne peut ont pas avoir un bon choix....pouvoir prendre un bon chemin....


pourvoir barrer un perible desastreu...








...

7:30 AM, Alerted to life by a song on the radio

The evening is over

Another morning, another opportunity

To do something progressive prove that he's worthy

Up and out the door by 9 O'clock

The sun is shining up and down the block

There's children in the corner waiting for a bus

That will take them to school and exploit their trust

He starts the car, sparks with one crank

It's those good ol' fashioned American mechanics

And even though he'd rather own a new import

It's dependible and more important its all he can afford

Stops by the coffee shop to pick up some smokes and a cup of Joe

Back into the Ford with the windows rolled up

So when the radio rocks he can sing along freely

With the lights out it's less dangerous

At the top of his lungs the words burst through shameless

Pushing that dream, trying to beat the time

Oh well whatever nevermind

Nothing else matters when your knifing through traffic

Wishing it was a stickshift, it's an automatic

Listening to the road, voice of the nomad

How he'd love to leave drive away never go back

Wheels keep on turning, turning turning and turning

Alone is when he finally feels like a person

Light another Nat Sherman

Crack the window, feel the wind blow

Serenity tenfold

God bless whoever invented sunglasses

And while your at save the saints that work the fast food drive throughs

Objects are closer than they appear

Cuz when your by yourself there ain't one else to lie to

Talk radio gets a lot of play in his vehicle

It teaches him topics to dicuss with real people

So when he stops to get gas or hit that coffee shop

His neurotic ass can act like he knows a whole lot

Pour some sugar on me, my counterfeit personality

He's a loner dottie, he's a rebel

He's gonna drive the escort to the middle of that meadow

Thinking about how he can leave this city

Fill the tank and towards the water he'll flee or,

Maybe he should just go get a picture at the CC

And find a stool at the bar where he can stare at the TV

Either way tomorrow will be just like today

And that's all it takes to make the change

He loves to drive more than he loves being alive

And this town doesn't even know his real name


It goes bye bye Miss American Pie

Drove the Ford to the border to disturb the order

If only that he'd know that he wouldn't be missed

Maybe then he could have grown to exist








It is also real as the world.