Stop all the clocks, cut of the telephone
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone
Silence the pianos and with a muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves

He was my North, my South, my East and West
My workingweek and my Sundayrest
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong

The stars are not wanted now, put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood
For nothing now can ever come to any good

a i ovo moze da bude!

umjetnost je viseznacna, ko strip sa vise svrsetaka, sjecate se ono u Politikinom zabavniku?

Ljepota je u oku promatrača.... 

a mozda je to jedna od onih 3d slika. ko na zadnjoj stranici kviskoteke. kad se zadubis 5 minuta onda vidis delfina i zalazak sunca...

Ja tu ne vidim nista lijepo, ali je moderno!

Šifru pokupi na jubilarnom II. prajdu u Splitu.... četvrta saksija koja doleeeeeeeti s desna....  

Dje si druže Bojane, puška te neubila!