I vulcani islandesi hanno veramente rotto le scatole. Ogni primavera che mi organizzo una vacanza spunta fuori un nuovo vulcano che fa di tutto per non farmi partire.
(maledetto Pisapia)
"With my feet upon the ground I lose myself between the sounds and open wide to suck it in.
I feel it move across my skin.
I'm reaching up and reaching out. I'm reaching for the random or what ever will bewilder me... what ever will bewilder me. And following our will and wind we may just go where no one's been.
We'll ride the spiral to the end and may just go where no one's been. Spiral out , keep, going."
I vulcani islandesi hanno veramente rotto le scatole. Ogni primavera che mi organizzo una vacanza spunta fuori un nuovo vulcano che fa di tutto per non farmi partire.
(maledetto Pisapia)
"With my feet upon the ground I lose myself between the sounds and open wide to suck it in.
I feel it move across my skin.
I'm reaching up and reaching out. I'm reaching for the random or what ever will bewilder me... what ever will bewilder me. And following our will and wind we may just go where no one's been.
We'll ride the spiral to the end and may just go where no one's been. Spiral out , keep, going."
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