Ó rapariga, isto é que é um hino:
endless tears
forever joy
to feel most every feeling
forever more
endless tears
forever joy
to feel most every feeling
forever moreand if I drown in this sea of devotion
just a stone left unturned
my need is deep
wide endless oceans
feel it furious
the fire burns onlet there be love
everlasting
and it will live eternally
will we receive without ever asking?
i’m just curiousdon’t want to see me crying
just want to see me flying
i need to get so high and
want somebody to blow my mind
don’t want to see me crying
just want to see me flying
i need to get so high and
want don’t you blow my mind
blow my mind
blow my mindgot to find me somebody
but there’s nobody
to love me
anybody could love meand it’s driving me crazy
there’s nobody to love me
anybody could love mesomebody to hold my hand
someone who understands
somebody to help me write
the poetry of life
someone to love me
someone who loves me
ooh baby
–moloko
Couldn’t agree more…
Crianças…
Bem… Um hino é qualquer coisa que nos descreve… Sempre achei que aquele era o meu hino, mas, recentemente, tive a certeza de que não, AQUELE não pode ser o meu hino…