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Allegra

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If I had wings, I wouldn't do anything beautiful and transcendent
No, I'd get my finger into everything I wanted
I'd do all the beautiful things, those thing you can't do
Because nobody wants you to be able to do the things that make you feel good
Like you can't smoke on the aeroplane
I remember smoking on the aeroplane
I used to love the smoke on the airplane
Those were the golden days of air travel
They would just open the door at the airport
And you'd walk right out the tarmac
And up those stairs and light a big cigarette
And stick it in the ashtray and the stewardess would come along
And if she was hot, you can try to pick her up
Once I was flying from New York to DC, I didn't have much time
And the stewardess was smoking
She was a dusky tall American beauty
And I put down my tray table, snorted a gram of cocaine
Till I got up my courage to say, "Can I have your phone number?"
And she gave me the number, that was the good news
The bad news was I got too stoned and I lost the number
The stewardess would've been better than the cocaine
I made an error in judgement
But still I remember smoking on the aeroplane
Smoking on the aeroplane
Smoking on the aeroplane, everybody did it
They gather at the back on the way to Australia
And all puff up at once outside the bathroom
And that's why if I had wings
That would be a bad idea, hahahahaha, I guess
According to everything I've been taught about the laws of
Ethics and karma and good behavior, hahahahaha
If I had wings, I'd go, yum, yum, yum-yum, yum-yum, yum, ow!
I'd have fun
If I had wings, I'd have fun
Smoking on the aeroplane

 

Sunlight on my wings
 

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"Ono toplo klupko životnih snaga, što sve nas nosi po svijetu, što se miče u nama, što neodoljivo čini, te se i mi mičemo u tom opasnom micanju sveukupnosti, to klupko crijeva, mesa, topline, uspomena, nagona, ljepote, straha, sve se to steže u takvom mozgu kao školjka i rastvara kao rana: u tom rastvaranju, u tim posljednjim izdisajima, u tome sklapanju zjenica, u onom posljednjem zbivanju prije nego što se konačno spusti zavjesa nad svim, prije onog posljednjeg prijeloma pred nepovratom, u one dvije-tri sekunde događanja, otvaraju se prostori, koji moraju da su isto tako veliki i isto tako intenzivni kao što je bio čitav život onog lica, koje se otkinulo od stvarnosti u nepovrat. To kidanje mora da je ipak bolno! Krvavo! To je kidanje uzbuđenog bunila, groznice i strave pred - ipak - nepoznatim, bolne panike za svime što je bilo toplo, poznato i drago: za kućama, za jelima, za djetinjstvima, u jednu riječ, za svim ugodnostima živaca i mozga, crijeva i kože, tijela i krvi. A ispod toga je smrt: hladna narkoza, kao oblog kamfora, tako hladna horizontala tajanstvene maglice oko pruge, oko lokomotive, oko telefonskih žica, što zuje na vjetru. Pupkovina se rastrgala, zinula je blatna voda i hladna, nepovratna, mirna, dosadna tmina."

(Povratak Filipa Latinovića)

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