1. |
Smoke
04:26
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I know a place
You would like to go
It's my black heart
It's my wild soul
My heart still thinking of you
com on inside
Remember time when you were inside?
I sucked Your heart
smoked Your love
but I'm still thinking of you
I know a place you will never know
it's my black heart, it's my wild soul
my heart is missing you
come on outside
forget a time when you were inside
you sucked my heart smoked my love
but I'm still thinking of you
we are dead
we are smoke
we are so dead
we are just smoke
we are dead
we are just dead
we are just dead cigarets baby
suck my heart
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2. |
Laura song
06:14
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3. |
Music
06:02
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Music
Charles Beaudelaire
Translation by Robert Fitzgerald
On music drawn away, a sea-borne mariner,
Star over bowsprit pale,
Beneath a roof of mist or depths of lucid air
I put out under sail;
Breastbone my steady bow and lungs full, running free
Before a following gale,
I ride the rolling back and mass of every sea
By Night wrapt in her veil;
All passions and all joys that vessels undergo
Tremble alike in me;
Fair wind, or waves in havoc when the tempests blow
On the enormous sea
Rock me, and level calms come silvering sea and air,
A glass for my despair.
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4. |
Destruction
03:26
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destruction
At my side the Demon writhes forever,
Swimming around me like impalpable air;
As I breathe, he burns my lungs like fever
And fills me with an eternal guilty desire.
Knowing my love of Art, he snares my senses,
Appearing in woman's most seductive forms,
And, under the sneak's plausible pretenses,
Lips grow accustomed to his lewd love-charms.
He leads me thus, far from the sight of God,
Panting and broken with fatigue into
The wilderness of Ennui, deserted and broad,
And into my bewildered eyes he throws
Visions of festering wounds and filthy clothes,
And all Destruction's bloody retinue.
Charles Beaudelaire
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5. |
Spleen
05:46
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SPLEEN I
(Charles Beaudelaire)
I'm like the king of a rain-country, rich
but sterile, young but with an old wolf's itch,
one who escapes his tutor's monologues,
and kills the day in boredom with his dogs;
nothing cheers him, darts, tennis, falconry,
his people dying by the balcony;
the bawdry of the pet hermaphrodite
no longer gets him through a single night;
his bed of fleur-de-lys becomes a tomb;
even the ladies of the court, for whom
all kings are beautiful, cannot put on
shameful enough dresses for this skeleton;
the scholar who makes his gold cannot invent
washes to cleanse the poisoned element;
even in baths of blood, Rome's legacy,
our tyrant's solace in senility,
he cannot warm up his shot corpse, whose food
is syrup-green. Lethean ooze, not blood.
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6. |
Siamese Twins
04:17
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7. |
Jazz (Pray)
05:13
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8. |
Hello yellow
05:12
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9. |
Tik tak
04:36
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10. |
Take me home
05:12
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11. |
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ZOOid Kraków, Poland
Three buddies from Nowodworski high school (Krakow) were joined with fascination with Led Zeppelin, David Lynch and Jeanne Moreau. From the very beginning we knew that we must play rock no matter what - even if we didn't have equipment, money or skills. We voted and democratically decided that Mateo would play the guitar, Mlody drums and Stary (Mlody's brother) would sing and play the bass. ... ... more
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