“At once a new warmth flows through me. These voices, these quiet words, these footsteps in the trench behind me recall me at a bound from the terrible loneliness and fear of death by which I had been almost destroyed. They are more to me than life, these voices, they are more than motherliness and more than fear; they are the strongest, most comforting thing there is anywhere: they are the voices of my comrades.
I am no longer a shuddering speck of existence, alone in the darkness;— I belong to them and they to me; we all share the same fear and the same life, we are nearer than lovers, in a simpler, a harder way; I could bury my face in them, in these voices, these words that have saved me and will stand by me.”
We can never go home,
We no longer have one
I'll help you carry the load,
I'll carry you in my arms,
The kiss of the snow
The crescent moon above us
Our blood is cold, we’re alone
But I’m alone with you
Help me to carry the fire
We will keep alight together
Help me to carry the fire
It will light our way forever
If I say shut your eyes,
If I say look away
Bury your face in my shoulder
Think of a birthday
The things you put in your head
They will stay here forever
Our blood is cold, we’re alone, love
But I’m alone with you
Help me to carry the fire
We will keep alight together
Help me to carry the fire
It will light our way forever
Help me to carry the fire
We will keep alight together
Now help me to carry the fire
It will light up our way forever
If I say shut your eyes,
If I say shut your eyes
Bury me in surprise
Where I say shut your eyes
Help me to carry the fire
We will keep alight together
Help me carry the fire
It will light our way forever
Now that spring is finally here,
And your hollow heart, your hollow heart.
Drive through the forest and into the night,
Away from the city, away from the light.
Hollow heart, you're a hollow heart,
Oh, and we're worlds apart.
And we're worlds apart.
В 1982 году в дверь постучали. Это был чувак с гитарой по имени Джонни Марр. Наш общий приятель охарактеризовал меня как мизантропа, пишущего стихи, а Джонни был весьма любопытен.
это было так: боуи катился на самокате по мокрому после дождя асфальту, и тут он видит младенца, до боли напоминающего филдинга… ну не мог же он оставить малыша одного:)
To love is to suffer. To avoid suffering, one must not love. But, then one suffers from not loving. Therefore, to love is to suffer, not to love is to suffer, to suffer is to suffer. To be happy is to love, to be happy, then, is to suffer, but suffering makes one unhappy, therefore, to be unhappy one must love, or love to suffer, or suffer from too much happiness — I hope you're getting this down.