When I take a picture I take 10 percent of what I see.
quote by Annie Leibovitz
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Related quotes
Picture Picture by Tanya Markova
Picture picture ohh...
Picture picture ohh...
Picture picture ohh...
Picture picture ohh...
Picture picture ohh...
Picture picture
Picture picture ohh...
Picture picture ohh...
Picture picture
Picture picture ohh...
Nang gabing masilayan ka...
Dala-dala ko pa
Ang aking lumang camera
Picture picture ohh...
Picture picture
Picture picture ohh...
Picture picture ohh...
Picture picture
Picture picture ohh...
Campus gig noon at nag-aya ang tropa
Maraming bebot ang nagsasayaw
Nang biglang mapansin kita
What a beautiful face
At kinunan kita
What a beautiful face
Angat ka sa iba
Picture picture ohh...
Picture picture
Picture picture ohh...
Picture picture
What a beautiful
What a beautiful face
I saw her face
Mukha syang taga-a a outerspace
Si Mang Roger ako'y kinalabit
Ang sabi
Halika na balot muna
[...] Read more
poem by Shi Yelami
Added by Poetry Lover
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How I Picture Heaven
How I Picture Heaven by Kenny Davis
How do I picture Heaven?
The great kingdom among clouds
His children, His saints
His angels, rejoicing loud
How do I picture Heaven?
This astonishing, glorious place
Where I pray to have the honor
To gaze upon his majestic face
How do I picture Heaven?
The street paved in gold
Worth more than the richest treasure
Even grander than I was told
How do I picture Heaven?
Beyond light-years away from earth
Beyond mere galaxies away from pain
Even much further away all of the hurt
How do I picture Heaven?
Many mansions made of pearl
Luster brighter than the stars
One that shines across the world
How do I picture Heaven?
Free of worry and strife
No more heartbreak and heart ache
Looking forward to this eternal life
How do I picture Heaven?
On every face, there is a smile
The joy amongst his followers
Can be seen for many miles
How do I picture Heaven?
Land of milk and honey
Sweeter than grain of a sugar cane
And every day is sunny
How do I picture Heaven?
Or should I say, “The land of honey and milk”
With everyone in their marvelous robes
Softer than Egyptian silk
How do I picture Heaven?
Land of joy and bliss
If you are to miss the train
Oh! What a party you would miss!
[...] Read more
poem by Kenneth Davis
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Salut Au Monde
O TAKE my hand, Walt Whitman!
Such gliding wonders! such sights and sounds!
Such join'd unended links, each hook'd to the next!
Each answering all--each sharing the earth with all.
What widens within you, Walt Whitman?
What waves and soils exuding?
What climes? what persons and lands are here?
Who are the infants? some playing, some slumbering?
Who are the girls? who are the married women?
Who are the groups of old men going slowly with their arms about each
other's necks?
What rivers are these? what forests and fruits are these?
What are the mountains call'd that rise so high in the mists?
What myriads of dwellings are they, fill'd with dwellers?
Within me latitude widens, longitude lengthens;
Asia, Africa, Europe, are to the east--America is provided for in the
west;
Banding the bulge of the earth winds the hot equator,
Curiously north and south turn the axis-ends;
Within me is the longest day--the sun wheels in slanting rings--it
does not set for months;
Stretch'd in due time within me the midnight sun just rises above the
horizon, and sinks again;
Within me zones, seas, cataracts, plants, volcanoes, groups,
Malaysia, Polynesia, and the great West Indian islands.
What do you hear, Walt Whitman?
I hear the workman singing, and the farmer's wife singing;
I hear in the distance the sounds of children, and of animals early
in the day;
I hear quick rifle-cracks from the riflemen of East Tennessee and
Kentucky, hunting on hills;
I hear emulous shouts of Australians, pursuing the wild horse;
I hear the Spanish dance, with castanets, in the chestnut shade, to
the rebeck and guitar;
I hear continual echoes from the Thames;
I hear fierce French liberty songs;
I hear of the Italian boat-sculler the musical recitative of old
poems;
I hear the Virginia plantation-chorus of negroes, of a harvest night,
in the glare of pine-knots;
I hear the strong baritone of the 'long-shore-men of Mannahatta;
I hear the stevedores unlading the cargoes, and singing;
I hear the screams of the water-fowl of solitary north-west lakes;
I hear the rustling pattering of locusts, as they strike the grain
and grass with the showers of their terrible clouds;
I hear the Coptic refrain, toward sundown, pensively falling on the
[...] Read more
poem by Walt Whitman
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Picture Book
Picture yourself when youre getting old,
Sat by the fireside a-pondering on[? ].
Picture book, pictures of your mama, taken by your papa a long time ago.
Picture book, of people with each other, to prove they love each other a long ago.
Na, na, na, na, na na.
Na, na, na, na, na na.
Picture book.
Picture book.
A picture of you in your birthday suit,
You sat in the sun on a hot afternoon.
Picture book, your mama and your papa, and fat old uncle charlie out cruising with their friends.
Picture book, a holiday in august, outside a bed and breakfast in sunny southend.
Picture book, when you were just a baby, those days when you were happy, a long time ago.
Na, na, na, na, na na.
Na, na, na, na, na na.
Picture book.
Picture book.
Picture book.
Picture book.
Picture book,
Na, na, na, na na,
Na, na, na, na na,
A-scooby-dooby-doo.
Picture book,
Na, na, na, na na,
Na, na, na, na na,
A-scooby-dooby-doo.
Picture book, pictures of your mama, taken by your papa a long time ago.
Long time ago,
Long time ago,
Long time ago,
Long time ago,
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
song performed by Kinks
Added by Lucian Velea
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Variations At Home And Abroad
It takes a lot of a person's life
To be French, or English, or American
Or Italian. And to be at any age. To live at any certain time.
The Polish-born resident of Manhattan is not merely a representative of
general humanity
And neither is this Sicilian fisherman stringing his bait
Or to be any gender, born where or when
Betty holding a big plate
Karen crossing her post-World War Two legs
And smiling across the table
These three Italian boys age about twenty gesturing and talking
And laughing after they get off the train
Seem fifty percent Italian and the rest percent just plain
Human race.
O mystery of growing up! O history of going to school!
O lovers O enchantments!
The subject is not over because the photograph is over.
The photographer sits down. Murnau makes the movie.
Everything is a little bit off, but has a nationality.
The oysters won't help the refugees off the boats,
Only other human creatures will. The phone rings and the Albanian
nationalist sits down.
When he gets up he hasn't become a Russian émigré or a German circus
clown
A woman is carrying a basket—a beautiful sight! She is in and of
Madagascar.
The uniformed Malay policeman sniffs the beer barrel that the brothers of
Ludwig are bringing close to him.
All humanity likes to get drunk! Are differences then all on the surface?
But even every surface gets hot
In the sun. It may be that the surface is where we are all alike!
But man and woman show that this isn't true.
We will get by, though. The train is puffing at the station
But the station isn't puffing at the train. This difference allows for a sense
of community
As when people feel really glad to have cats and dogs
And some even a few mice in the chimney. We are not alone
In the universe, and the diversity causes comfort as well as difficulty.
To be Italian takes at least half the day. To be Chinese seven-eighths of it.
Only at evening when Chang Ho, repast over, sits down to smoke
Is he exclusively human, in the way the train is exclusively itself when it is
in motion
But that's to say it wrongly. His being human is also his being seven-eighths
Chinese.
Falling in love one may get, say, twenty percent back
Toward universality, though that is probably all. Then when love's gone
One's Nigerianness increases, or one's quality of being of Nepal.
An American may start out wishing
To be everybody or that everybody were the same
[...] Read more
poem by Kenneth Koch
Added by Poetry Lover
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The Libelle of Englyshe Polycye
Here beginneth the Prologe of the processe of the Libelle of Englyshe polycye, exhortynge alle Englande to kepe the see enviroun and namelye the narowe see, shewynge whate profete commeth thereof and also whate worshype and salvacione to Englande and to alle Englyshe menne.
The trewe processe of Englysh polycye
Of utterwarde to kepe thys regne in rest
Of oure England, that no man may denye
Ner say of soth but it is one the best,
Is thys, as who seith, south, north, est and west
Cheryshe marchandyse, kepe thamyralte,
That we bee maysteres of the narowe see.
For Sigesmonde the grete Emperoure,
Whyche yet regneth, whan he was in this londe
Wyth kynge Herry the vte, prince of honoure,
Here moche glorye, as hym thought, he founde,
A myghty londe, whyche hadde take on honde
To werre in Fraunce and make mortalite,
And ever well kept rounde aboute the see.
And to the kynge thus he seyde, 'My brothere',
Whan he perceyved too townes, Calys and Dovere,
'Of alle youre townes to chese of one and other
To kepe the see and sone for to come overe,
To werre oughtwardes and youre regne to recovere,
Kepe these too townes sure to youre mageste
As youre tweyne eyne to kepe the narowe see'.
For if this see be kepte in tyme of werre,
Who cane here passe withought daunger and woo?
Who may eschape, who may myschef dyfferre?
What marchaundy may forby be agoo?
For nedes hem muste take truse every foo,
Flaundres and Spayne and othere, trust to me,
Or ellis hyndered alle for thys narowe see.
Therfore I caste me by a lytell wrytinge
To shewe att eye thys conclusione,
For concyens and for myne acquytynge
Ayenst God, and ageyne abusyon
And cowardyse and to oure enmyes confusione;
For iiij. thynges oure noble sheueth to me,
Kyng, shype and swerde and pouer of the see.
Where bene oure shippes, where bene oure swerdes become?
Owre enmyes bid for the shippe sette a shepe.
Allas, oure reule halteth, hit is benome.
[...] Read more
poem by Anonymous Olde English
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Picture Show
A young man from a small town
With a very large imagination
Lay alone in his room with his radio on
Looking for another station
When the static from the mouthpiece
Gave way to the sound below
James dean went out to hollywood
And put his picture in a picture show.
James dean went out to hollywood
And put his picture in a picture show.
Chorus:
And its oh daddy get off of your knees
Mamma whyd you have to go
Your darling jim is out a limb
I put my picture in a picture show
Whoa ho! put my picture in a picture show
Hamburgers cheeseburgers
Wilbur and orville wright
John garfield in the afternoon
Montgomery clift at night
When the static hit the mouthpiece
Gave way to the sound below
James dean went out to hollywood
And put his picture in a picture show.
Repeat chorus:
A mocca man in a wigwam sitting on a reservation.
With a big black hole in the belly of his soul
Waiting on an explanation
While the white man sits on his fat can
And takes pictures of the navajo
Every time he clicks his kodak pics
He steals a little bit of soul.
Every time he clicks his kodak pics
He steals a little bit of soul.
Repeat chorus:
Yie hi! put my picture in a picture show
Here we go!
A young man from a small town
With a very large imagination...
song performed by John Prine
Added by Lucian Velea
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Slice The Memories of It
Count on getting your cut,
Of up to fifty percent less.
'Fifty percent less of what? '
You appear to be intelligent.
This figure may cut deeper than you expect.
Remember neglected responsibilities...
Leaves an exquisite taste for spice you like.
Slice the memories of it,
And do something else...
With that bitterness you will be gifted with.
It seems that glamourous nest you lay resting...
To live that fantastic life you treasure and measured.
At the expense of your pretensions?
Count on getting your cut,
Of up to fifty percent less.
'Fifty percent less of what? '
Of nothing left!
My mama use to tell us,
She could not squeeze blood from a turnip!
And she tried very hard to make us believe...
Eating mustard and mayonaisse sandwiches,
Was good for our teeth and made strong bones!
We were also taught we could not have,
What she and my father did not own!
And she connected this to not having money.
To keep our dreams,
But not to waste them on empty wishes.
In other words...
If one sees there is nothing when shown.
It is best to accept it and adapt!
Take and attach your dreams...
On something you know is yours,
That can not be tapped.
Or taken!
Count on getting your cut,
Of up to fifty percent less.
'Fifty percent less of what? '
Of nothing left!
And that depends on where your mind is,
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Could You Picture Life?
Could you picture life?
Could you picture life?
Misty morning with birds singing melodies,
Could you picture life in the clouds,
The Morning star,
The comets,
The ufos,
The foolishness in racism,
Could you see CNN,
The crimes and the bursting that we play everyday,
The religious crimes,
Could you picture the negation in man?
That we die everyday is sin,
Could you picture?
Love is worth the New World Understanding,
Picture my eyes and see that we all be crying,
My brothers and sisters are dyeing and suffocating,
Picture the New World,
Where the True Understanding will dwell in our heart,
Could you picture?
You and I are no different,
We same creatures that creep for Bread,
Could you picture?
No man better than other,
Could you picture?
The credibility of Human Trust.
poem by Maxpoet Beauty
Added by Poetry Lover
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Love Spreads
Love spreads her arms
Waits there for the nails
I forgive you boy I will prevail
Too much to take some cross to bear
I'm hiding in the trees with a picnic
She's over there yeah
Yeah yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah
She didn't scream
She didn't make a sound
I forgive you boy
But don't leave town
Cold black skin naked in the rain
Hammer flash in the lightning
They're hurting her again
Let me put you in the picture
Let me show you what I mean
The messiah is my sister
Ain't no king man she's my queen
Let me put you in the picture
Let me show you what I mean
The messiah is my sister
Ain't no king man she's my queen
I have a dream
I've seen the light
Don't put it out
Say she's alright yeah
She's my sister
She didn't scream
She didn't make a sound
I forgive you boy
But don't leave town
Cold black skin naked in the rain
Hammer flash in the lightning
They're hurting her again
Oh oh
Ooh yeah yeah yeah yeah
Let me put you in the picture
Let me show you what I mean
The messiah is my sister
Ain't no king man she's my queen
Let me put you in the picture
Let me show you what I mean
The messiah is my sister
Ain't no king man she's my queen
[...] Read more
song performed by The Stone Roses from Second Coming
Added by Lucian Velea
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Filippo Baldinucci on the Privilege of Burial
"No, boy, we must not"—so began
My Uncle (he's with God long since),
A-petting me, the good old man!
"We must not"—and he seemed to wince,
And lost that laugh whereto had grown
His chuckle at my piece of news,
How cleverly I aimed my stone—
"I fear we must not pelt the Jews!
"When I was young indeed,—ah, faith
Was young and strong in Florence too!
We Christians never dreamed of scathe
Because we cursed or kicked the crew.
But now, well, well! The olive-crops
Weighed double then, and Arno's pranks
Would always spare religious shops
Whenever he o'erflowed his banks!
"I'll tell you"—and his eye regained
Its twinkle—"tell you something choice!
Something may help you keep unstained
Your honest zeal to stop the voice
Of unbelief with stone-throw, spite
Of laws, which modern fools enact,
That we must suffer Jews in sight
Go wholly unmolested! Fact!
"There was, then, in my youth, and yet
Is, by our San Frediano, just
Below the Blessed Olivet,
A wayside ground wherein they thrust
Their dead,—these Jews,—the more our shame!
Except that, so they will but die,
Christians perchance incur no blame
In giving hogs a hoist to stye.
"There, anyhow, Jews stow away
Their dead; and,—such their insolence,—
Slink at odd times to sing and pray
As Christians do—all make-pretence!—
Which wickedness they perpetrate
Because they think no Christians see.
They reckoned here, at any rate,
Without their host: ha, ha, he, he!
"For, what should join their plot of ground
But a good Farmer's Christian field?
The Jews had hedged their corner round
With bramble-bush to keep concealed
Their doings: for the public road
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from Pacchiarotto (1876)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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We believe you will not have to pay more than the current rate structure proposes - which is, for 50 percent of the public, nothing; for another 25 percent, only a 10 percent increase; and for the remaining 25 percent, a 34 percent increase.
quote by Gray Davis
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Revenge of the 47 Percent
In politics, it is acceptable to fight back with the ballot.
This long awaited election is about people with a lot
Versus the hardworking middle- class, which strives
Every day to earn a living, and to improve their lives.
The 47 percent is a powerful force made of retirees,
Veterans of the armed forces, recently graduate students,
Teachers, full and part-time workers, factory employees,
Health workers, paraprofessionals, and civil servants.
The list is infinitesimal, that's what makes this voting block
So potent and important. The next election will serve as a test,
For this true melting pot, which has the strength to move the rock,
In favor of Barack H. Obama, the one and only, and the best.
The best person who can lead and move this country forward.
Barack has proven himself in the last four years, despite
And in spite of the mess that he has inherited. The kite
Will only fly higher with his effective leadership, not downward.
The 47 percent will, without a doubt, fight back,
The 47 percent will vote, en masse, for Barack,
Because Obama is a very smart and savvy President,
Who cares for all, for the 99 percent, and also for the 1 percent.
poem by Hebert Logerie
Added by Poetry Lover
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Sad picture piece
The picture we took together
And put together piece by piece
All of us as a Group
With smiles on our faces we
Were laughing together
Creating what we thought
Was a big happy picture
Now in the future we look
At that big picture piece
And see a sad picture piece
Comparing it to today, most of us…
Dead, war reached us.
What use to be happy picture piece.
Turned to what it really was.
A sad picture piece we put together
As a Group.
Smiling, laughing, naive
Naïve of what the future
Could bring
Friends dying, revealing what they
Really did with there life
In the past, happy as can be
Together wishing for more
Seeing that picture now
Remembering all the thing’s I had
In the past, also with things I lost
Now you see a picture with lies
But also the truth
Both makes the group shot of friends
We put together
A big, but small sad picture piece.
poem by Marcellus Watts
Added by Poetry Lover
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Broken
You can close your eyes
And see a picture perfect life
Inside of your mind
Dreaming only of the days ahead
Wanted and wished for more than now
Or the days behind
You waste your time
The picture makes a promise
The flesh lets it be broken
The picture makes a promise
The flesh lets it be broken
You can never think
You cant even stop yourself
Before the words have been spoken
And youve already said
You would give everything
And something for nothing
Everybody thinks youre joking
The picture makes a promise
The flesh lets it be broken
The picture makes a promise
The flesh lets it be broken
You want to be the one
Made over be your own
Before and after
And a supermarket
Beauty in a bottle queen
Wholl one day grace a check-out counter
Magazine front cover
Though the fine print reads
The picture makes a promise
The flesh lets it be broken
The picture makes a promise
The flesh lets it be broken
Lets it be broken
Lets it be broken
Lets it be broken
Lets it be broken
Lets it be broken
Broken
Broken
When your life is never what you wanted
Not even halfway normal
Just tarnished and soiled
When in your reach
A framed and frozen moment
So far from perfection
Not truth or transcendence
Will set you free
Still you dont believe
[...] Read more
song performed by Tracy Chapman
Added by Lucian Velea
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That's Not Her Picture
(Bill Anderson/Gary Burr)
That's not her picture
I wish it was
It came with the wallet
I keep it because
It reminds me of her
It reminds me of us
But that's not her picture
I haven't replaced it
I don't know why
It may be the blonde hair
It may be the smile
It brings back the feeling
For a little while
But that's not her picture
I know it's wrong, it's a total stranger
A photo from the discount store
But her picture's home in a thousand pieces
Scattered on the bedroom floor
She might have her eyes
Might have her face
Might look like her
In so many ways
It fools the heart
It fills the space
But that's not her picture
I know it's wrong, it's a total stranger
A photo from the discount store
But her picture's home in a thousand pieces
Scattered on the bedroom floor
That's not her picture
I wish it was
It came with the wallet
I keep it because
It reminds me of her
It reminds me of us
But that's not her picture
Thank you for asking
I miss her so much
But that's not her picture
song performed by John Michael Montgomery
Added by Lucian Velea
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Hiawatga's Photographing
FROM his shoulder Hiawatha
Took the camera of rosewood,
Made of sliding, folding rosewood;
Neatly put it all together.
In its case it lay compactly,
Folded into nearly nothing;
But he opened out the hinges,
Pushed and pulled the joints and hinges,
Till it looked all squares and oblongs,
Like a complicated figure
In the Second Book of Euclid.
This he perched upon a tripod -
Crouched beneath its dusky cover -
Stretched his hand, enforcing silence -
Said, "Be motionless, I beg you!"
Mystic, awful was the process.
All the family in order
Sat before him for their pictures:
Each in turn, as he was taken,
Volunteered his own suggestions,
His ingenious suggestions.
First the Governor, the Father:
He suggested velvet curtains
Looped about a massy pillar;
And the corner of a table,
Of a rosewood dining-table.
He would hold a scroll of something,
Hold it firmly in his left-hand;
He would keep his right-hand buried
(Like Napoleon) in his waistcoat;
He would contemplate the distance
With a look of pensive meaning,
As of ducks that die ill tempests.
Grand, heroic was the notion:
Yet the picture failed entirely:
Failed, because he moved a little,
Moved, because he couldn't help it.
Next, his better half took courage;
SHE would have her picture taken.
She came dressed beyond description,
Dressed in jewels and in satin
Far too gorgeous for an empress.
Gracefully she sat down sideways,
With a simper scarcely human,
[...] Read more
poem by Lewis Carroll from Phantasmagoria and Other Poems
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Hiawatha's Photographing
From his shoulder Hiawatha
Took the camera of rosewood,
Made of sliding, folding rosewood;
Neatly put it all together.
In its case it lay compactly,
Folded into nearly nothing;
But he opened out the hinges,
Pushed and pulled the joints and hinges,
Till it looked all squares and oblongs,
Like a complicated figure
In the Second Book of Euclid.
This he perched upon a tripod -
Crouched beneath its dusky cover -
Stretched his hand, enforcing silence -
Said, "Be motionless, I beg you!"
Mystic, awful was the process.
All the family in order
Sat before him for their pictures:
Each in turn, as he was taken,
Volunteered his own suggestions,
His ingenious suggestions.
First the Governor, the Father:
He suggested velvet curtains
Looped about a massy pillar;
And the corner of a table,
Of a rosewood dining-table.
He would hold a scroll of something,
Hold it firmly in his left-hand;
He would keep his right-hand buried
(Like Napoleon) in his waistcoat;
He would contemplate the distance
With a look of pensive meaning,
As of ducks that die ill tempests.
Grand, heroic was the notion:
Yet the picture failed entirely:
Failed, because he moved a little,
Moved, because he couldn't help it.
Next, his better half took courage;
SHE would have her picture taken.
She came dressed beyond description,
Dressed in jewels and in satin
Far too gorgeous for an empress.
Gracefully she sat down sideways,
With a simper scarcely human,
[...] Read more
poem by Lewis Carroll
Added by Poetry Lover
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Messages Lost In A Lonely Night
Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep.
Is the sound of my nights cell phone messages.
As my lover finally comes within cell phone range.
My lover will find nine separate cell phone messages.
As she comes within range of this night’s pleading paging.
All those messages build to ask; compel her to come to me.
Message one was subtle and said
“Enjoy dancing and a few drinks tonight. My love,
If you need me I am only a phone call away.”
It had a picture icon of enjoying drinks.
Message two said “Where is my little froggy voice? ”
Because a week ago you were ill my love.
It had the picture icon of a happy party.
Because you were out on the town partying.
Message three sadly said “You should have visited me
tonight my love.” It had the picture icon of a sad face.
Message four said simply “I miss you!
Why did you not come to me my love? ”
It had the picture icon of the broken hearted lover.
Message five said “Put another log on the fire and come! ”
It had the picture icon of a dog warm and snugly at home.
Message six said “It is 12 o’clock Cinderella
quick run to me my love! ”
It had the picture icon of the magic of meeting a rabbit;
coming out of a magician’s hat. An excellent trick.
Message seven said “Why did you not come to me? ”
It had the picture icon, of a cute cuddly, teddy bear.
Message eight said “Your nightie is under
the pillow (in its place) beside me my love.”
It had the picture icon of a man happily winking.
Message nine disappointed said “You did not
come because you do not love me enough.
True love always finds a way.” It had the picture icon
of a cloudy rainy day. Because my love remained away.
[...] Read more
poem by Terence George Craddock
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This Is The Picture
Excellent birds
Flying birds
Excellent birds
Watch them fly, there they go
Falling snow
Excellent snow
Here it comes. watch it fall
Long words
Excellent words
I can hear them now
This is the picture, this is the picture
This is the picture, this is the picture
Im sitting by the window
Watching the snow fall
Im looking out
And Im moving, turning in time
Catching up. moving in
Jump up! I can land on my feet. look out!
This is the picture, this is the picture
This is the picture, this is the picture
Looking out. watching out
When I see the future I close my eyes
I can see it now
I see pictures of people, rising up
Pictures of people, falling down
I see pictures of people
Theyre standing on their heads, theyre ready
Theyre looking out, look out!
Theyre watching out, watch out!
Theyre looking out, look out!
Theyre watching out, watch out!
I see pictures of people
I see pictures of people
song performed by Peter Gabriel
Added by Lucian Velea
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