englishman in new york - Cerca con Google
Three, maybe four thoughts:
The first one is from people who understand. The link to this Sting song is a bit too long. Probably - inside - there’s also the measurement of my penis. If you’re interested, give it a read. You surely have a lot to do. I envy you.
2. Who plays the alto sax, as a jazz musician would say, or the bass clarinet, as a classical musician would put it? For me, it’s Joshua Redman. Now, it’s one of two things. If I’m right, you sign up for a site. And you say you know everything. Or I’m wrong. And you tell me. Beautiful, boolean logic! Ahaha.
3. Of the whole song, I love the woman. Beautiful, wonderful, more than just someone to sleep with. Marriable. She’s the one who’s always there. No, not always, just before you. And you listen to her. And you ask her how she is. And she replies.
4. Why am I posting this stuff? Because there are days when you feel like an ALIEN. A LEGAL ALIEN. Those kinds of things. On those days, you feel like going to Sting and saying, excuse me: do you brag about being English? Come on! Go fuck yourself. Then Salvini wins, and you complain, you idiots! Later, you hear that he doesn’t brag. And he says he’s got two damn things hanging on his balance. And those damn two things hanging are what he calls his home. And then - even Sting - you start to care about him. Well, just for that. And I'm sorry. Maybe you had work to do. And I bothered you.