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Those guys on the t. It isn't in the way that you hold me It isn't in the way that you kiss me But baby there's just something about you And everytime I look in your eyes You know I feel my temperature rise 'cos baby there's just something about you Oh you could take my heart and go And if you dont come back, everything is black I know, oh, oh. So you can break my heart if you want to Oh living would be no good without you 'Cos baby there's just something about you Well sometimes when I'm lying beside you There's nothing in the world that I can't do Oh baby theres just something about you Oh, when you do the things you do There's a woman in my life and baby I'm so glad its you So if you ever feel you dont wan't me Well life could never go on believe me 'cos, baby there's just something about you Another time, another place would you be in my arms And if I looked into your face is it true There's nobody else like you It isn't in the way that you hold me It isn't in the way that you kiss me But baby there's just something about you.
How come in our cities so much love is left alone? Lazy days just pass How come so many children have a heart without a home?
I was lost and at an end, It seemed so long I really needed a friend, Why should I pretend. Try my best to get along, Make some friends but something always went wrong, I'd come on too strong.
Things were really getting rough, Getting tired of acting like I was tough, I'd just had enough. And when it rains it's alright cos' I Know I'll soon be back to you And the nights are so long baby I'm thinkin' of you now Baby I want you Oh Yeah Baby I need you so I've been count the days and wasting my nights cos' nothing can fill this space without you and your womanly ways make these missing you nights You know I love everything about you darlin' Baby I want you Oh Yeah Baby I'm coming Back to you I see your face sometimes I swear I feel you here with me I can't wait for your love feelin' your arms around me now Baby I want you Yes I do Baby I need you so I've been count the days and wasting my nights cos' nothing can fill this space without you and your womanly ways make these missing you nights You know I love everything about you darlin' Baby I want you Oh Yeah Baby I'm coming Back to you Darlin' I need your Lovin' I need your everything only you can give Oh I want you to know Baby I need you so Words and music by Chris Norman Copyright Chris Norman - Dice Music Limited.
All out of tears all cried out, We've come full circle, And through the years I found out What love is all about All out of tears. Fought like soldiers On the battlefields of love, We never could admit, We'd had enough. Took no prisoners Struggled to survive, Now you and me, Are the walking wounded.
And in the end, Was it worth the trouble that it took, Think of all the time that we have wasted. You leave our site and will be redirected to our Facebook page. Please note that this personal data may be transmitted to Facebook. You leave our site and will be redirected to our Twitter page. Please note that this personal information can be transmitted to Twitter.
Million Miles To Nowhere. Trying To Find My Home. When A Love Affair Ends.
Maybe There's A Way. Baby I Call Your Name. Right Time, Wrong Place. Nothing is more heartbreaking than received wisdom, and Hailsham students, carefully sheltered not just from any real understanding of their fate but from any real understanding of the world in which it will be acted out, have nothing else to go on. Their sense of suspension, in a present where they neither make nor understand the rules, is pervasive.
Childishly snobbish about the proprieties, they're as puzzled by what's proper as anyone else.
Small fashions of behaviour come and go. Far into adulthood Kathy, Tommy and Ruth dissimulate and bicker and set teenage behavioural traps for one another.
Inevitably, it being set in an alternate Britain, in an alternate s, this novel will be described as science fiction. But there's no science here.
How are the clones kept alive once they've begun "donating"? Who can afford this kind of medicine, in a society the author depicts as no richer, indeed perhaps less rich, than ours? Ishiguro's refusal to consider questions such as these forces his story into a pure rhetorical space.
You read by pawing constantly at the text, turning it over in your hands, looking for some vital seam or row of rivets. Precisely how naturalistic is it supposed to be? Receiving no answer, you're thrown back on the obvious explanation: But that position has been visited before one thinks immediately of Michael Marshall Smith's savage offering, Spares.
There's nothing new here; there's nothing all that startling; and there certainly isn't anything to argue with. Who on earth could be "for" the exploitation of human beings in this way? Ishiguro's contribution to the cloning debate turns out to be sleight of hand, eye candy, cover for his pathological need to be subtle.
So what is Never Let Me Go really about? It's about the steady erosion of hope. It's about repressing what you know, which is that in this life people fail one another, grow old and fall to pieces. It's about knowing that while you must keep calm, keeping calm won't change a thing.
Beneath Kathy's flattened and lukewarm emotional landscape lies the pure volcanic turmoil, the unexpressed yet perfectly articulated, perfectly molten rage of the orphan. By the final, grotesque revelation of what really lies ahead for Kathy and Tommy and Ruth, readers may find themselves full of an energy they don't understand and aren't quite sure how to deploy.
Never Let Me Go makes you want to have sex, take drugs, run a marathon, dance - anything to convince yourself that you're more alive, more determined, more conscious, more dangerous than any of these characters. This extraordinary and, in the end, rather frighteningly clever novel isn't about cloning, or being a clone, at all.
It's about why we don't explode, why we don't just wake up one day and go sobbing and crying down the street, kicking everything to pieces out of the raw, infuriating, completely personal sense of our lives never having been what they could have been.