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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2009-12-13 | [Text in der Originalsprache: english] |
Our celestial body turns
and so does yours. Glass of whiskey held high. Broad brimmed hat on your head. The band plays faster now; bass, mandolin, drums and liquor soaked vocals, until mother earth is anchored up, with all those demons lying unconscious on the floor. Drummer Boy clutches his pair of sticks between two fingers as you smile exuberantly and start for the sanctuary of an Irish pub's inner quarters.
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