Давно хотела уже сделать подобный пост: почистить лайки и собрать всё, лежащее там, о последнем утре Друзей Азбуки...
В процессе собирания я порвала себе вот просто всё, параллельно слушая Turning и Empty chairs at empty tables.
Зачем я их слушала - не знаю, зачем собрала этот пост - не знаю. Но это требовало выхода.
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they were schoolboys, never held a gun
fighting for a new world that would rise up like the sun
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And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -
And sore must be the storm -
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm -
I've heard it in the chillest land -
And on the strangest Sea -
Yet - never - in Extremity,
It asked a crumb - of me.
Emily Dickinson
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But now there is a higher call
Who cares about your lonely soul
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here they sang about tomorrow and tomorrow never came
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…and still they’ll never understand.
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Behind this house, there were streets, possible flight, space. They set to knocking at the door with the butts of their guns, and with kicks, shouting, calling, entreating, wringing their hands. No one opened. —Les Miserables, V.1.22
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They were kids that I once knew
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Children of the barricade who didn’t last the night…
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Hope is the thing with feathers | Emily Dickinson
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But I still wake up, I still see your ghost
Oh Lord, I’m still not sure what I stand for
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It was heroism become monstrous.
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we’re abandoned by those who still live in fear;
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I’m waking up, I feel it in my bones
Enough to make my systems blow
Welcome to the new age, to the new age
Welcome to the new age, to the new age
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in their last moments, people show you who they really are
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then say to the others who did not follow through
you’re still our brothers and we will fight for you
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