Καλα, δεν εχει το Θεο του. Δεν τον πιανεις πουθενα!
Καλα, δεν εχει το Θεο του. Δεν τον πιανεις πουθενα!
They say we've got a lifetime, but we know that ain't true.
Den einai prwtoselido,alla nomizw oti aksizei....
Remembrance of Things Past
I swarm deserted away, like glass...
Warm, and as fevers,
I am as flame.
I am death...
For I, I weave our blasphemies...
Wicthes painted me,
Like the mysteries created me...
Like where the poets breathe,
I were woven into blasphemies.
They say we've got a lifetime, but we know that ain't true.
before i pine away
To fwtostefano tou leipei tou malaka
Remembrance of Things Past
I swarm deserted away, like glass...
Warm, and as fevers,
I am as flame.
I am death...
For I, I weave our blasphemies...
Wicthes painted me,
Like the mysteries created me...
Like where the poets breathe,
I were woven into blasphemies.
δινουν και δωρο ντι βι ντι ξανθοπουλου για να συνοδευει την αναγνωση της εφημεριδας?
Πονος Μυαλου!
και μαρθας βουρτση
AMOK gia Milan,efygan 900 eisitiria leei.
Kai afou o don Lorenco exei eksasfalisei tin kali poreia sto CL (pou apoteleitai apo 1 niki me paikti parapanw gia 70 lepta) KAI to prwtathlima,thelei kai to Kypello!
aristourgima
i would name her rock'n'roll.
k fusika eidiki mneia prp na dw8ei k katw aristera se 2 simeia:
a) Ola gia ola o olumpiakos sto pagkritio me atsalenio
kai to kalutero...
b) Komvolidis - Koutroumanos perimenoun ton PAO sti fili me thrasivoulo...
GOUAAAAR
"It's there to remind our lads who they're playing for, and to remind the opposition who they're playing against."
Bill Shankly about the 'This is Anfield' plaque
Ρε, Ευρω-ΑΕΚ λεμε!
They say we've got a lifetime, but we know that ain't true.
Remembrance of Things Past
I swarm deserted away, like glass...
Warm, and as fevers,
I am as flame.
I am death...
For I, I weave our blasphemies...
Wicthes painted me,
Like the mysteries created me...
Like where the poets breathe,
I were woven into blasphemies.
St. Pyrinos Anger θα καψει ολα τα μουνια.
"Τι χτυπαω??"
"Ενα μονο με ελιες. Και ενα μονο με πατατες."
Originally Posted by dyingfreedom
Remembrance of Things Past
I swarm deserted away, like glass...
Warm, and as fevers,
I am as flame.
I am death...
For I, I weave our blasphemies...
Wicthes painted me,
Like the mysteries created me...
Like where the poets breathe,
I were woven into blasphemies.
o sosialistikos realismos sto xwro tis athlitikis dimosiografias
before i pine away
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