maybe that's why i love nights.

The Moon is Made of Gold-- Rickie Lee Jones

Don’t feel bad because the sun went down
The night has wealth untold
Just keep watching and you soon will see
The Moon is Made of Gold

Now the stars appear
And as they do
Heaven they unfold
Don’t feel bad because the sun went down
The Moon is Made of Gold

See how the shadows
Enhanced by the light above
Dance in the night
As the breezes sigh,
Soon you will be asleep
Into your dreams will creep
Visions of fairies flying through the sky

And one by one
Your dreams will all come true
Magic you’ll behold
Don’t feel bad because the sun went down
The Moon is Made of Gold

Comments

i love physics.

every morning an endless battle ensues within me. the gravitational force that's tugging at me back into bed and the equally strong urgency derived from a pile of never ending work that's making me move towards my breakfast drawer. usually the one that requires me to travel the shortest distance ends up victorious. the bed of cos, which goes without saying. unless the force on the other end is simply too great a draw- a growling stomach maybe, but almost all the time, it's about work that's loading as if each piece were under the influence of gravity and the only way it could go is down onto me. sometimes i wish both forces work in the same direction.

when words read a million times over but still never a bore.(unlike my exam notes that are boring me to tears)

"When you drop a glass or a plate to the ground it makes a loud crashing sound. When a window shatters, a table leg breaks, or when a picture falls off the wall it makes a noise. But as for your heart, when that breaks, it's completely silent. You would think it's so important that it would make the loudest noise in the whole world, or even have some sort of ceremonious sound like the gong of a cymbal or the ringing of a bell. But it's silent and you almost wish there was a noise to distract you from the pain." --Cecelia Ahern

Mr perfect/miss imperfect

Instead of waiting for the perfect one, work at being the perfect one instead. These words roll off the tongue with ease like a familiar jingle. Yet the former holds an appeal tt the latter can never achieve.could it be, that at the end of the day, we are, in fact, more aware of reality than we realise? The former, perhaps, more achievable than the latter?

life's mean reds.

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