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■ Sonet fără nici o legătură cu faptul că azi împlinesc 43 de ani
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2008-01-28 | [Acest text ar trebui citit în english] |
I recall my youth, going out with my mates.
Seems long ago now, my body relates. I miss playing football, and watching the games. I know as "ex pats", we all feel the same. A longing for custard, on apple pie. A passion for cricket, now that's a suprise. Yorkshire on Sundays, along with roast. Dark brown gravy.... ahh Bisto... it smokes. I don't miss the traffic on the m25. The third lane lunatics, on a caffeine high. Sunday drivers really "pissed me" off. Give 'em 2 fingers" "hey mate"..... "cough" I miss getting frozen, down on our coasts, The illuminations in Blackpool, the host. Getting pelted by sand, as you walked along. I was 2 miles from the beach .....where's it from? I miss my foundation, the concrete below. I miss that security, of being on the dole. What happened to" Cloughy" where is our "Pat." What happend to "Besty", still getting fat. I could do with a curry, and a few beers. I love my "ol' man" and my "ol' dear" . Give me the "arsenal", against the "spurs". Or "gimme "some bingo... the early bird. We are the whiners, put any country to shame. Give it a pulse, and we will use it to blame . Gimme "ol blighty", please keep in touch. Talk to me England.......I miss you so much. " chris thripp"
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