viernes, 8 de julio de 2011

Carry on my wayward son.

Once I rose above the noise and confusion just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion. I was soaring ever higher but I flew too high.
Though my eyes could see I still was a blind man, though my mind could think I still was a mad man. I hear the voices when I'm dreaming, I can hear them say: "Carry on my wayward son, there'll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest, don't you cry no more."
Masquerading as a man with a reason, my charade is the event of the season and if I claim to be a wise man, well, it surely means that I don't know.
On a stormy sea of moving emotion, tossed about I'm like a ship on the ocean. I set a course for winds of fortune, but I hear the voices say: "Carry on my wayward son, there'll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest, don't you cry no more."
Carry on, you will always remember. Carry on, nothing equals the splendor, the center lights around your vanity but surely heaven waits for you.
Carry on my wayward son, there'll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest, don't you cry no more.

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Comenta por que si no mando a Barney a tu casa para que abra la canilla de agua caliente mientras te bañas.