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Showing posts from February, 2010


Haunted by the misuse of letters and a generation of bed wetters, Haunted by our government debtors  and casual Super Bowl bettors, Haunted by the beauty I can not possess  and the empty bottles to subdue my stress, Haunted by the things I can not confess  and the image of a devil wearing a blue dress, Haunted by a disease with no known cure  and the politics of business I seldom abhor, Haunted by the feelings I'm not so sure  who it was outside my door, Haunted by the memory inside my head  and the Sunday evenings right before bed, Haunted by the letters which are still unread and the dreams deferred that end up dead. Sinead O'Connor & Shane MacGowan, Holland, 1988