相约来到这世上
却在途中失散
走的路是否一样
看着同一片艳阳
我忽然有预感
久违的陌生人会遇上
也许是你笑的弧度和我很像
也许是因为守护的星座和我一样
也许是漫长的黑夜特别孤单
才会背靠著背一起等天亮
黑夜如果不黑暗 美梦又何必向往
破晓会是坚持的人最后获得的奖赏
黑夜如果太黑暗 我们就闭上眼看
希望若不熄灭就会亮成心中的星光
上帝布置的悲伤 和分配的阳光
你和我是否一样
拥抱同一种信仰
我忽然有预感
我们会是彼此的星探
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
Thursday, December 29, 2005
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
Saturday, November 05, 2005
一群嗜血的蚂蚁被腐肉所吸引
'我面无表情看孤独的风景
失去你爱恨开始分明
失去你还有什黱事好关心
当鸽子不再象徵和平
我终於被提醒
广场上餵食的是秃鹰
我用漂亮的押韵
形容被掠夺一空的爱情'
啊乌云开始遮蔽夜色不乾净
公园里葬礼的回音在漫天飞行
送你的白色玫瑰
在纯黑的环境凋零
乌鸦在树枝上诡异的很安静
静静听我黑色的大衣
想温暖你日渐冰冷的回忆
走过的走过的生命
啊四周弥漫雾气
我在空旷的墓地
'老去後还爱你'
为你弹奏萧邦的夜曲
纪念我死去的爱情
'跟夜风一样的声音
心碎的很好听'
手在键盘敲很轻
'我给的思念很小心'
你埋葬的地方叫幽冥
为你弹奏萧邦的夜曲
纪念我死去的爱情
而我为你隐姓埋名
在月光下弹琴
'对你心跳的感应还是如此温热亲近'
怀念你那鲜红的唇印
'那些断翅的蜻蜓散落在这森林
而我的眼睛没有丝毫同情
失去你泪水混浊不清
失去你我连笑容都有阴影
风在长满青苔的屋顶
嘲笑我的伤心'
像一口没有水的枯井
我用凄美的字型
描绘後悔莫及的那爱情
为你弹奏萧邦的夜曲
纪念我死去的爱情
'跟夜风一样的声音
心碎的很好听'
手在键盘敲很轻
'我给的思念很小心'
你埋葬的地方叫幽冥
为你弹奏萧邦的夜曲
纪念我死去的爱情
而我为你隐姓埋名在月光下弹琴
'对你心跳的感应还是如此温热亲近'
怀念你那鲜红的唇印
Thursday, August 25, 2005
Sunday, August 21, 2005
TAKE ONE STORY, viewed from two different angles.
Take a rainy Sunday morning in July, in the late 1920s, when Eddie and his friends are tossing a baseball Eddie got for his birthday nearly a year ago. Take a moment when that ball flies over Eddie's head and out into the street. Eddie, wearing tawny pants and a wool cap, chases after it, and runs in front of an automobile, a Ford Model A. the car screeches, veers and just misses him. He shivers, exhales, get the ball, and races back to his friends. The game soon ends and the children run to the arcade to play.
Now take that same story from a different angle. A man is behind the wheel of a Ford Model A, which he has borrowed from a friend to practise his driving. The road is wet from the morning rain. Suddenly, a baseball bounces across the street, and a boy comes racing after it. The driver slams on the brakes and yanks the wheel. the car skids, the tires screech.
The man somehow regains control, and the Model A rolls on. The child has disappeared in the rearview mirror, but the man's body is still affected, thinking of how close he came to tradegy. The jolt of adrenaline has forced his heart to pump furiously and this heart is not a strong one and the pumping leaves him drained. The man feels dizzy and his head drops momentarily. His automobile nearly collides with another. The second driver honks, the man veers again, spinning the wheel, pushing on the brake pedal. He skids along an avenue then turns down an alley. His vehicle rolls until it collides with the rear of a parked truck. There is a small crashing noise. The headlights shatter. The impact smacks the man in the steering wheel. His forehead bleeds. He steps from the Model A, sees the damage, then collapses onto the wet pavement. His arm throbs. His chest hurts. It is Sunday morning. The alley is empty. He remains there, unnoticed, slumped against the side of the car. The blood from his coronary arteries no longer flows to his heart. An hour passes. A policeman finds him. A medical examiner pronounces him dead. The cause of death is listed as ''heart attack''. There are no known relatives.
Take one story, viewed from two different angles. It is the same day, the same moment, but one angle ends happily, at an arcade, and the other ends badly, in a city morgue.
~Mitch Albom: the five people you meet in heaven~
Take a rainy Sunday morning in July, in the late 1920s, when Eddie and his friends are tossing a baseball Eddie got for his birthday nearly a year ago. Take a moment when that ball flies over Eddie's head and out into the street. Eddie, wearing tawny pants and a wool cap, chases after it, and runs in front of an automobile, a Ford Model A. the car screeches, veers and just misses him. He shivers, exhales, get the ball, and races back to his friends. The game soon ends and the children run to the arcade to play.
Now take that same story from a different angle. A man is behind the wheel of a Ford Model A, which he has borrowed from a friend to practise his driving. The road is wet from the morning rain. Suddenly, a baseball bounces across the street, and a boy comes racing after it. The driver slams on the brakes and yanks the wheel. the car skids, the tires screech.
The man somehow regains control, and the Model A rolls on. The child has disappeared in the rearview mirror, but the man's body is still affected, thinking of how close he came to tradegy. The jolt of adrenaline has forced his heart to pump furiously and this heart is not a strong one and the pumping leaves him drained. The man feels dizzy and his head drops momentarily. His automobile nearly collides with another. The second driver honks, the man veers again, spinning the wheel, pushing on the brake pedal. He skids along an avenue then turns down an alley. His vehicle rolls until it collides with the rear of a parked truck. There is a small crashing noise. The headlights shatter. The impact smacks the man in the steering wheel. His forehead bleeds. He steps from the Model A, sees the damage, then collapses onto the wet pavement. His arm throbs. His chest hurts. It is Sunday morning. The alley is empty. He remains there, unnoticed, slumped against the side of the car. The blood from his coronary arteries no longer flows to his heart. An hour passes. A policeman finds him. A medical examiner pronounces him dead. The cause of death is listed as ''heart attack''. There are no known relatives.
Take one story, viewed from two different angles. It is the same day, the same moment, but one angle ends happily, at an arcade, and the other ends badly, in a city morgue.
~Mitch Albom: the five people you meet in heaven~
Tuesday, July 26, 2005
Do you know what you’re fighting for?
Why your dreams still bum?
Do you know why you wake at night?
Why you close your eyes when you should fight?
Do you know what you really love?
The more that we know the less we know…
Do you know what you’re waiting for?
Why your heart stands still?
Do you know what your limits are?
Are you reaching out with open arms?
Do you know all your inner truths?
The more that we know the less we know…
~Somewhere : Sweetbox~
Saturday, July 23, 2005
One day on the road on the English countryside,
a clergyman happened to meet Plague.
'Where are you bound?' asked Clergyman.
'To, London,' responded Plague, 'to kill a thousand.'
They chatted a few moments longer, then parted.
Some months later they chanced to meet again, and the Clergyman inquired,
'As I recall, you were going to kill a thousand.
How is it that two thousand died?'
'Ah, yes,' replied Plague.
'I killed but a thousand. Fear killed the rest.'
Sunday, July 10, 2005
Thursday, June 16, 2005
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
Monday, June 06, 2005
In the wake of his parents' murder, disillusioned industrial heir Bruce Wayne travels the world seeking the means to fight injustice and turn fear against those who prey on the fearful.
He returns to Gotham and unveils his alter-ego: Batman, a masked crusader who uses his strength, intellect and an array of high tech deceptions to fight the sinister forces that threaten the city.
More Than A Man_BATMAN
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