Nothing's more.

Lapping lakes like leary loons,

Only love is all maroon,

Gluey feathers on a flume,

Sky is womb and she's the moon.

Bon iver

Hey hey my my.

Slow down.

And let the birds gather
Play no more with the fool
And let the souls wander.

Slip into your skin.

Slip into your skin and spend the night

And get out mine

Walking the streets in dark

Where lamps are the sunshine for the trees

Oh for the trees.

Cause everybody needs somebody

To hold them down

Oh everybody needs somebody

To hold them down

When your feet are leaving the ground.

Patrick Watson.

Streets of London.

Have you seen the old man In the closed-down market

Kicking up the paper, with his worn out shoes?

In his eyes you see no pride

Hand held loosely at his side

Yesterday's paper telling yesterday's news

So how can you tell me you're lonely,

And say for you that the sun don't shine?

Let me take you by the hand and lead you through the streets of London

I'll show you something to make you change your mind

In the all night cafe

At a quarter past eleven,

Same old man is sitting there on his own Looking at the world

Over the rim of his tea-cup,

Each tea lasts an hour

Then he wanders home alone In our winter city,

The rain cries a little pity

For one more forgotten hero

And a world that doesn't care.

Cat Stevens.

Cesaria Evora.

La diva aux pieds nus.

Angola.

Not so many things we've got to do.

Naila.

1, 2, 3, Soleil!

Simply Beautiful.

Comptine d'un autre été.

[Et souvent de liberté.]

Trop loin à l'est, c'est l'Ouest.

Lao-Tseu