<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476</id><updated>2012-02-16T09:14:39.646Z</updated><category term='variados'/><category term='frases soltas'/><category term='músicas com alma'/><category term='saber escrever saber falar'/><category term='palavras juntas'/><category term='vídeos'/><category term='FotoArte'/><category term='poesia livre'/><title type='text'>Palavras, emoções e rimas</title><subtitle type='html'>espaço destinado à revelação das cores cósmicas da vida inerente ao ser humano...confuso ? talvez não...basta abrir os olhos e acordar para a realidade...tudo é um sonho de cores :)</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>179</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-730946727089234427</id><published>2011-08-05T15:43:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2011-08-05T15:44:43.342+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Mensagem</title><content type='html'>Gostaria de deixar a mensagem aquelas pessoas que andam a deixar comentarios sem gosto, sem sequer terem a coragem de se identificarem. Se nao vem dizer nada de novo, se faz favor de nao virem ao meu blog, nao preciso do vosso sarcasmo e estupidez. Obrigada&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-730946727089234427?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/730946727089234427/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2011/08/mensagem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/730946727089234427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/730946727089234427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2011/08/mensagem.html' title='Mensagem'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-1874372611646617729</id><published>2011-04-03T18:35:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2011-04-03T18:36:17.396+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Palavras</title><content type='html'>Dizem que as palavras contêm dentro delas o que nenhum gesto poderá alguma vez transmitir, pois atrás de um abraço pode estar uma contradição, atrás de uma mão amiga pode vir a inimiga. &lt;br /&gt;Então no que resta acreditar? &lt;br /&gt;Nas palavras certamente, essas pequenas maravilhas que conseguem transmitir sentimentos de anos e milénios em apenas um som, em pequenos dialectos que transformam o olhar mais triste de alguém em algo radioso. &lt;br /&gt;Pois é através do olhar, que as palavras ganham sentido, pois a sua percepção só é sentida quando é lida com os olhos de quem quer viver na plena consciência do seu ser. &lt;br /&gt;Uma imagem vale mais do que mil palavras? &lt;br /&gt;Uma palavra consegue provocar o olhar mais puro e verdadeiro que todos nós procuramos intensamente toda a vida, aquele olhar que faz parte de nós, aquele olhar que nos diz mil palavras sem dizer nenhuma… &lt;br /&gt;Utilizando as palavras tendo expressar o que o interior quer dizer, através do olho tento dizer aquilo que as palavras às vezes não querem escrever… &lt;br /&gt;Que acontece agora? &lt;br /&gt;Continuo a escrever, libertando os gestos que quero mostrar, criando mil imagens de fantasias e esperanças, palavras essas que alguém irá entender… &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-1874372611646617729?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/1874372611646617729/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2011/04/palavras.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/1874372611646617729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/1874372611646617729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2011/04/palavras.html' title='Palavras'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-1992155772421740914</id><published>2011-03-23T19:49:00.007Z</published><updated>2011-03-23T19:57:15.396Z</updated><title type='text'>Portfólio</title><content type='html'>Primeiro Trabalho realizado para Géneros Fotográficos: Auto-retrato =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vPcqZY2bI5U/TYpQjcAnNvI/AAAAAAAAAIg/xxlvp807_1s/s1600/CIMG0833.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vPcqZY2bI5U/TYpQjcAnNvI/AAAAAAAAAIg/xxlvp807_1s/s320/CIMG0833.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587366857450927858" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-q_u2xCvPeRk/TYpQOA_JfsI/AAAAAAAAAIY/EhPphNjLHZo/s1600/CIMG0737.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-q_u2xCvPeRk/TYpQOA_JfsI/AAAAAAAAAIY/EhPphNjLHZo/s320/CIMG0737.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587366489419775682" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4-oXPas1BWM/TYpP_V6RsVI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/LyvIaQj-V80/s1600/CIMG0732.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4-oXPas1BWM/TYpP_V6RsVI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/LyvIaQj-V80/s320/CIMG0732.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587366237338448210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kPGPSC8Cx7I/TYpPywMZdaI/AAAAAAAAAII/RR-i7qrXHKU/s1600/197658_195468983809093_100000379797304_579643_1326854_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kPGPSC8Cx7I/TYpPywMZdaI/AAAAAAAAAII/RR-i7qrXHKU/s320/197658_195468983809093_100000379797304_579643_1326854_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587366021055477154" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4zyRCSaNcTc/TYpPkZlMFrI/AAAAAAAAAIA/oyb5owuaDb4/s1600/184257_1858095173008_1259742470_32181309_1569841_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4zyRCSaNcTc/TYpPkZlMFrI/AAAAAAAAAIA/oyb5owuaDb4/s320/184257_1858095173008_1259742470_32181309_1569841_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587365774467274418" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Gr_QI_kxETs/TYpPJzDz_iI/AAAAAAAAAH4/Fv9mTf5qqD0/s1600/15756_1265476837920_1259742470_30781069_885363_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 281px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Gr_QI_kxETs/TYpPJzDz_iI/AAAAAAAAAH4/Fv9mTf5qqD0/s320/15756_1265476837920_1259742470_30781069_885363_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587365317450137122" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-1992155772421740914?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/1992155772421740914/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2011/03/portfolio.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/1992155772421740914'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/1992155772421740914'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2011/03/portfolio.html' title='Portfólio'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vPcqZY2bI5U/TYpQjcAnNvI/AAAAAAAAAIg/xxlvp807_1s/s72-c/CIMG0833.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-3574002896438948397</id><published>2011-03-23T19:47:00.001Z</published><updated>2011-03-23T19:49:22.841Z</updated><title type='text'>Voltei =)</title><content type='html'>É verdade! após uma ausência de muiiito tempo, decidi voltar, não vai ser rotineiro, mas pelo menos vou estar mais atenta =)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-3574002896438948397?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/3574002896438948397/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2011/03/voltei.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/3574002896438948397'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/3574002896438948397'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2011/03/voltei.html' title='Voltei =)'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-2965920684176702376</id><published>2010-04-03T13:28:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2010-04-03T13:53:15.622+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Dvina Comédia!</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-e9d97ac0534894e6" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" 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bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v15.nonxt4.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3De9d97ac0534894e6%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331882348%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D1942D3BA83EB2F733151CEA8D2E71E994124A87E.14514E0CDF36CD0329281FCFCDE8AF6909AFB50E%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3De9d97ac0534894e6%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DKk2Nv7AfFiISQUWQk66oLkvJL-4&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-d46c463a12f0f962" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param 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bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v18.nonxt5.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Dd46c463a12f0f962%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331882348%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D55A429255D8FD3B16BA8B1D9691BD1665CA26155.63041B68F6643D4A0369112C078F623578FBBDE6%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dd46c463a12f0f962%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DWCdh9sqh2tWI8pMr8-W4BeLStGc&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-2965920684176702376?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/2965920684176702376/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2010/04/dvina-comedia.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/2965920684176702376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/2965920684176702376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2010/04/dvina-comedia.html' title='Dvina Comédia!'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-5337063774774933640</id><published>2010-04-01T19:02:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2010-04-01T19:05:15.703+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Duía - Da Weasel</title><content type='html'>A noite era calma&lt;br /&gt;a chuva era intensa&lt;br /&gt;uma fartazana&lt;br /&gt;mas isso é sem ofensa&lt;br /&gt;só eu e ela&lt;br /&gt;naquele fartote&lt;br /&gt;amor prazer e eu mostrava o meu forte&lt;br /&gt;com muita calma,com muito amor&lt;br /&gt;ela na minha alma&lt;br /&gt;e eu gritando por favor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nunca me deixes&lt;br /&gt;preciso de ti&lt;br /&gt;o amor é uma loucura e tu precisas de mim&lt;br /&gt;em qualquer altura em qualquer lugar&lt;br /&gt;sinto a tua presença&lt;br /&gt;até no meu olhar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meu amor&lt;br /&gt;minha dor&lt;br /&gt;meu prazer&lt;br /&gt;meu terror&lt;br /&gt;razão de toda a fé e descrença no criador&lt;br /&gt;tarde de verão&lt;br /&gt;noite de inverno&lt;br /&gt;brisa de paraiso&lt;br /&gt;ou chama de inferno&lt;br /&gt;és como 2 em 1&lt;br /&gt;versão concentrada&lt;br /&gt;para minha razão angustiada serenata&lt;br /&gt;sempre ao meu lado sempre&lt;br /&gt;longe de mim&lt;br /&gt;sempre mais que suficiente,&lt;br /&gt;sempre assim,assim...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Agora embora tudo passou&lt;br /&gt;ela endoideceu&lt;br /&gt;e logo me largou&lt;br /&gt;sem preconceito&lt;br /&gt;andar à deriva&lt;br /&gt;eu andava&lt;br /&gt;só&lt;br /&gt;e não tinha mais saida&lt;br /&gt;Agora meu irmão&lt;br /&gt;pensa um bocado&lt;br /&gt;como passarias&lt;br /&gt;se estivesses neste caso&lt;br /&gt;entre duas paredes&lt;br /&gt;num lugar estreito&lt;br /&gt;é como querer nadar sem ter o braço&lt;br /&gt;direito&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-5337063774774933640?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/5337063774774933640/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2010/04/duia-da-weasel.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/5337063774774933640'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/5337063774774933640'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2010/04/duia-da-weasel.html' title='Duía - Da Weasel'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-6302215135566195906</id><published>2010-04-01T18:29:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2010-04-01T18:49:17.290+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='saber escrever saber falar'/><title type='text'>Música portuguesa forever</title><content type='html'>A lei que obriga as rádios a passar mais música portuguesa alterou por completo o nosso panorama radiofónico: hoje em dia ouve-se mais música em inglês.&lt;br /&gt;Muito bem, talvez seja exagero. Mas não andará muito longe da verdade. A lei não obriga as rádios a passar uma determinada quota de música boa, até porque a qualidade da música depende de um critério subjectivo. O problema é que a nacionalidade da música também parece difícil de determinar objectivamente. Uma música tocada com instrumentos estrangeiros, cantada em língua estrangeira e produzida em estúdios estrangeiros por produtores estrangeiros pode ser portuguesa, e uma música cantada pela Nelly Furtado em português (supondo que a língua que Nelly Furtado fala quando pensa que está a falar português é, de facto, português) pode ser estrangeira.&lt;br /&gt;Vamos supor que a Madonna é acometida de uma virose esquisita e resolve gravar um vira do Minho em português. Pode acontecer. É um sonho que tenho há muito: de repente, uma boa quantidade de artistas anglo-saxónicos decide que a língua inglesa é um bocado foleira e que as músicas ficam com muito mais pinta se forem cantadas em português. Pois bem, eis um facto chocante: o vira da Madonna não será considerado música portuguesa, por muito que ela esganice a voz, raspe no reco-reco e malhe nos ferrinhos. Por outro lado, a Ana Malhoa pode cantar o «Like a Prayer» da Madonna numa espécie de inglês - e canta, que eu já ouvi com estes que a terra há-de comer. Como é óbvio, a terra, se fosse minha amiga, tinha-os comido antes de esta infeliz ocorrência se ter verificado. O que me preocupa é que o «Like a Prayer» da Ana Malhoa, além de contar como música, o que já é estranho, conta como música portuguesa.&lt;br /&gt;Espero não ser mal interpretado: não tenho nada contra a música portuguesa que é cantada em língua estrangeira. Mas tenho dificuldade em distingui-la da música estrangeira. Sobretudo, acho que se podia variar. Se a lei permite que a música portuguesa não seja, digamos, portuguesa, julgo que se podia arriscar um pouco mais. Por exemplo, compor uma boa música, palpitante de novidade, numa língua morta. «Discipulae rosas donant magistrae, nomine Iuliae». Dava um grande tema. Quanto mais não seja porque, se não estou em erro, anda para ali um ablativo. Alguém componha uma rockalhada em latim, se querem ver o que é bom. O genitivo nem tanto, mas o ablativo anima mesmo uma festa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Novas Crónicas da Boca do Inferno'&lt;br /&gt;Ricardo Araújo Pereira&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-6302215135566195906?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/6302215135566195906/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2010/04/musica-portuguesa-forever.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/6302215135566195906'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/6302215135566195906'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2010/04/musica-portuguesa-forever.html' title='Música portuguesa forever'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-4154122540734949715</id><published>2010-03-31T22:20:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2010-03-31T22:21:47.319+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='saber escrever saber falar'/><title type='text'>No meu tempo não era assim</title><content type='html'>Quando este texto for publicado, o leitor já terá visto várias vezes o vídeo em que uma aluna da escola Carolina Michaelis dá início a um motim porque a professora de Francês teve a ousadia de lhe confiscar o telemóvel. (Se não viu o filme, digo-lhe que impressiona. Sobretudo porque, enquanto a generalidade dos cidadãos é assaltada na rua, a esta senhora o gangue apareceu-lhe no local de trabalho.) Também calculo que já terá tido oportunidade de ouvir várias pessoas a garantirem-lhe que isto, no tempo delas, não era assim. Eu nunca perco uma oportunidade de me juntar a um coro de moralistas (que, normalmente, têm uma afinação irrepreensível), e por isso estou aqui para dizer o mesmo: isto, no meu tempo, não era assim. Era pior. Sobretudo porque não havia telemóveis. Privados da possibilidade de filmar os seus actos de indisciplina, os alunos do meu tempo tinham muita mais em tomar consciência da sua própria idiotia. O filme da escola Carolina Michaelis tem essa virtude: mostra a idiotice em toda a sua nudez. Um regalo para os meus olhos, que aprecio muito idiotice – e nudez ainda mais. Acredito sinceramente que, depois de verem a figura que fizeram, tanto a protagonista do filme como o magnífico cineasta que captou a acção, lançando a todo o passo estupendas indicações de cena, não voltarão a comportar-se assim. No meu tempo, teríamos continuado. Um alarve que toma consciência de ser alarve insiste na alarvidade? Não creio. E, se um alarve cair no meio de uma floresta e não estiver lá ninguém para ouvir, faz barulho? Julgo que sim, e confesso que até espero que se aleije com alguma gravidade na queda. A verdade é que, se há coisa que nunca muda em toda a história da humanidade, é esta: os adolescentes são parvos em todo o lado. Todos os senhores respeitáveis já foram, numa altura ou noutra, adolescentes parvos. Jorge de Sena começa um livro autobiográfico dando conta da «indisciplina ruidosa» que eram as suas aulas de Filosofia. Que, notem, decorreram no tempo dele. Tempo esse que é bem anterior ao tempo dos que agora dizem que no seu tempo isto não era assim. Está baralhado com isto dos tempos? Siga para o próximo parágrafo, que é já o penúltimo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;É por isso que a culpa do que sucedeu na escola Carolina Michaelis, a ser de alguém, é da professora. Ser professor de liceu é das actividades mais insolentemente arrogantes a que alguém se pode dedicar: trata-se de pretender ensinar coisas a quem já sabe tudo. Eu, pelo menos, sabia tudo aos 15 anos. A própria Carolina Michaelis, que era tão boa senhora, sabia com certeza muito mais aos 15 anos do que quando foi ensinar para a Universidade de Coimbra. Toda a gente sabe tudo aos 15 anos. Só com o passar do tempo se vai descobrindo, com razoável sobressalto, que não se sabe quase nada. Mas há duas ou três pessoas que nunca aprendem o seguinte: o tempo delas, apesar de contar com a sua inestimável presença, não é especial em nada. No meu tempo, aliás, toda a gente sabia isso.&lt;br /&gt;Nota: Não conheço bem as recentes propostas do Ministério da Educação e por isso não sei se, actualmente, posso prenunciar-me acerca de um professor sem o avaliar. Aqui fica, então, a minha avaliação da professora de Francês da escola Carolina Michaelis, baseando-me apenas nas imagens do vídeo: Resistência: 17. Capacidade de sofrimento: 19. Equilíbrio: 16. Persistência: 18.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Novas crónicas da boca do inferno'&lt;br /&gt;Ricardo Araújo Pereira&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-4154122540734949715?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/4154122540734949715/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2010/03/no-meu-tempo-nao-era-assim.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/4154122540734949715'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/4154122540734949715'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2010/03/no-meu-tempo-nao-era-assim.html' title='No meu tempo não era assim'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-2617720009165322525</id><published>2010-02-13T19:33:00.002Z</published><updated>2010-02-13T20:06:30.217Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='saber escrever saber falar'/><title type='text'>Tudo partido social-democrata</title><content type='html'>Não sendo analista político, tenho dificuldade em compreender a razão pela qual o PSD tem tão pouca vocação para fazer oposição ao Governo quando tem tanta habilidade para fazer oposição a si mesmo. Lá talento para litigar têm eles, mas gostam mais de o exercitar uns com os outros do que com o PS. Ao PS, aliás, o PSD tem pouco a apontar. Basicamente, Sócrates está a fazer tudo mais ou menos como eles acham que deve ser feito. Nada disto é estranho, apesar de tudo. Ninguém duvida de que o PSD tenha um plano para salvar Portugal, mesmo que aparentemente não tenha um plano para se salvar. Toda a gente percebe que o PSD é mais difícil de governar do que o país. Proporcionalmente, o PSD tem mais gente com ambições políticas do que o país, mas barões do que o país, e mais Albertos Joões Jardins do que o país. É óbvio que se trata de um partido ingovernável. Até porque as ambições políticas dos seus membros são sazonais: curiosamente, só se manifestam quando o PSD está no poder. Além disso, num partido normal, mesmo que os militantes tenham perspectivas diferentes sobre tudo o retso, pelo menos entendem-se quanto à ideologia. No PSD, que é um partido que se caracteriza por não ter ideologia nenhuma, a harmonia é rara e difícil. Veja-se o que sucede agora: o António Capucho não concorda com o Luís Filipe Menezes; o Luís Filipe Menezes não concorda com o Rui Rio; o Rui Rio não concorda com o Pacheco Pereira; e o Pacheco Pereira não concorda com ninguém. O caso complica-se quando constatamos que Luís Filipe Menezes, na ânsia de agradar a toda a gente, diz com frequência uma coisa e o seu exacto inverso, o que faz com, muitas vezes, o presidente do PSD nem consigo mesmo concorde. E o trágico é que há quem diga que esta é a sua melhor qualidade. Faz sentido: Luís Filipe Menezes não é uma alternativa a José Sócrates. É várias. Menezes tem opiniões para todos os gostos. Há propostas capazes de agradar a todos os sectores da sociedade portuguesa, e ainda a alguns sectores de certas sociedades estrangeiras. As únicas pessoas a quem Menezes não consegue agradar, por mais que tente, são os militantes do PSD. O grande problema parece ser, portanto, este: Luís Filipe Menezes é tão popular dentro do PSD como Sócrates no país. Talvez seja por isso que Menezes aparece sempre tão mal classificado nas sondagens: se calhar, a Universidade Católica anda a recolher opiniões na Rua de São Caetano à Lapa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Novas Crónicas da boca do Inferno'&lt;br /&gt;Ricardo Araújo Pereira&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-2617720009165322525?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/2617720009165322525/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2010/02/tudo-partido-social-democrata.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/2617720009165322525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/2617720009165322525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2010/02/tudo-partido-social-democrata.html' title='Tudo partido social-democrata'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-9031468868515502195</id><published>2010-02-12T21:05:00.003Z</published><updated>2010-02-12T21:31:57.383Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='saber escrever saber falar'/><title type='text'>Quarto de vista para o fim do mundo</title><content type='html'>Neste momento, a comunidade científica está dividida: certos cientistas acreditam que há pessoas a menos na Terra; outros acreditam que há pessoas a mais. Os que defendem que há pessoas a menos, como é óbvio, nunca tentaram atravessar a ponte 25 de Abril numa segunda-feira de manhã. Há que fazer mais pesquiza, companheiros. Por outro lado, a discussão terminaria com proveito para toda a gente se os cientistas que consideram que o planeta tem gente a mais morressem todos contribuíam para a diminuição da densidade populacional e deixavam de chatear quem não se importa de viver apertado.&lt;br /&gt;Confesso que não me interesso especialmente por questões demográficas, mas tenho um problema: sempre que se publica um desses estudos segundo os quais o mundo tem excesso de população, eu sinto que sou uma das pessoas que estão cá a mais. Maldito sentimento de culpa.&lt;br /&gt;Uma coisa é certa: todos os estudos que apontam para o cenário catastrófico de um mundo superlotado parecem esquecer um facto a meu ver importante: boa parte das pessoas que estão vivas são idiotas. E essa idiotia acaba por lhes reduzir bastante a esperança de vida. Repare o leitor no seguinte neste momento, cerca de três dezenas de menbros de uma seita russa estão barricados numa caverna a sudeste de Moscovo. Todos eles estão convencidos de que o mundo vai acabar em Maio de 2008 (o que me causa algum transtorno, porque já tenho coisas combinadas para Junho) e ameaçam cometer suicídio colectivo. Enquanto houver gente destam, o planeta nunca há-de rebentar pelas costuras.&lt;br /&gt;Atenção: não digo que esta gente seja idiota por acreditar que o mundo vai acabar daqui a seis meses. Cada um acredita no que quiser e ninguém nada com isso. Eu também acredito que ainda hei-de casar com a Scarlett Johansson e não há quem me convença do contrário - nem mesmo a Scarlett, que que bem podia parar de fazer queixa de mim à polícia. O que eu reputo de idiota é a opção pelo suicídio a escassos meses do fim do mundo. Como é possível ponderar a hipótese de perder o fim do mundo, que deve ser um espectáculo tão bonito? Se me disserem que o mundo acaba daqui a cinco minutos, eu vou fazer pipocas e sento-me à janela. Suicidar-me, além de estúpido, é estar a trabalhar para o boneco. É verdade que, por mais vistoso que seja o fim do mundo, no dia seguinte não poderemos comentá-lo com ninguém. Mas não deixa de ser reconfortante saber que também não há qualquer hipótese de lermos um daqueles comentários irritantes dos críticos a quem tudo sabe a pouco: «As bolas de fogo não eram assim tão grandes. Nem chamuscado fiquei», ou «O apocalipse podia ter sido mais apocalíptico, especialmente no final.» Não, meus amigos. Eu não perco o fim do mundo por nada deste mundo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Novas crónicas da boca do inferno'&lt;br /&gt;Ricardo Araújo Pereira&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-9031468868515502195?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/9031468868515502195/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2010/02/quarto-de-vista-para-o-fim-do-mundo.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/9031468868515502195'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/9031468868515502195'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2010/02/quarto-de-vista-para-o-fim-do-mundo.html' title='Quarto de vista para o fim do mundo'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-3474662714270867177</id><published>2010-02-12T19:58:00.002Z</published><updated>2010-02-12T20:02:46.794Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='frases soltas'/><title type='text'>desvaneios da mente</title><content type='html'>Pensamentos vão e vêm e apoderam-se da minha mente... Pensamentos negativos que tornam em desespero o sentimento feliz que sentia e ainda sinto... Estes pensamentos tomam as rédeas da direcção a tomar, e o meu sentimento sente-se a afogar... Preciso de uma maré renovadora... Preciso do sal revelador que me eleve o espírito e me mostre a direcção mais feliz, mais certa para o grande sentimento poder-se revelar e, quem sabe, aumentar?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-3474662714270867177?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/3474662714270867177/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2010/02/desvaneios-da-mente.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/3474662714270867177'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/3474662714270867177'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2010/02/desvaneios-da-mente.html' title='desvaneios da mente'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-198339018125044878</id><published>2010-02-12T19:03:00.003Z</published><updated>2010-02-12T19:54:46.520Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='saber escrever saber falar'/><title type='text'>Sobre um pequeno pormenor chamado liberdade</title><content type='html'>Eu não gosto de militares. Não gosto da ética militar, nem da brutalidade, nem daquele fanatismo patriótico que é, com muita frequência, trágico.&lt;br /&gt;E também não gosto do povo. Não gosto da irresponsabilidade da multidão, nem daqueles que parecem ser os dois principais factores de interesse da massa popular: aglomerar-se em torno de acidentes rodoviários e insultar as camionetas que levam os arguidos para o tribunal. Tinha um amigo da UDP (notem que é possível fazer amizade com gente da UDP) que gritava com gosto a palavra de ordem do partido: "UDP, sempre ao lado do povo!" E depois acrescentava, mais baixinho: "Mas nunca no meio dele." O escritor Mário de Carvalho costuma advertir para a necessidade de distinguir o povo do populacho, porque o primeiro é um conceito nobre e até mítico, e o segundo é uma massa infame. O problema é que é difícil encontrar o povo, mas é muito fácil dar de caras com o populacho.&lt;br /&gt;E, no entanto, foram os militares e o povo que fizeram o 25 de Abril. Às vezes dá-se o caso de um casal muito feio ter um filho muito bonito. Parece-me que foi o que aconteceu, embora nem toda a gente esteja convencida da beleza da criança. Para mim, o mais divertido nas comemorações do 25 de Abril têm sido as tentativas para tornar a data «mais consensual». O Dia da Liberdade não reúne consenso, o que me deixa verdadeiramente surpreendido. Percebo que a liberdade não seja consensual, mas do meu ponto de vista ninguém teve razões de queixa: para quem aprecia a liberdade, o 25 de Abril foi agradável; para os que não gostam, foi uma oportunidade para fazerem aquela viagem ao Brasil que tinham andado tanto tempo a adiar. Sempre pensei que a dara agradasse a todos.&lt;br /&gt;Na verdade, porém, o 25 de Abril parace agradar a cada vez menos gente. Há autores para quem o salazarismo não foi um fascismo, e outros para quem o 25 de Abril não foi exactamente uma revolução. O que faz com que, aparentemente, na frase «25 de Abril sempre, fascismo nunca mais», não haja nada que se aproveite. Nem o 25 de Abril foi 25 de Abril, nem o fascismo foi fascismo.&lt;br /&gt;E por isso, amanhão, numa data que, pelos vistos, não chegou a ocorrer, comemora-se a nossa libertação de um opressor que, ao que me dizem agora, nunca existiu. Até parece mais bonito assim, não parece? Parece. Resumindo e concluindo: 25 de Abril sempre, fascismo nunca mais.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Novas crónicas da boca do inferno'&lt;br /&gt;Ricardo Araújo Pereira&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-198339018125044878?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/198339018125044878/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2010/02/sobre-um-pequeno-pormenor-chamado.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/198339018125044878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/198339018125044878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2010/02/sobre-um-pequeno-pormenor-chamado.html' title='Sobre um pequeno pormenor chamado liberdade'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-414440410926969870</id><published>2010-01-15T23:12:00.000Z</published><updated>2010-01-15T23:13:05.924Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='palavras juntas'/><title type='text'>Palavras</title><content type='html'>Dizem que as palavras contêm dentro delas o que nenhum gesto poderá alguma vez transmitir, pois atrás de um abraço pode estar uma contradição, atrás de uma mão amiga pode vir a inimiga.&lt;br /&gt;Então no que resta acreditar?&lt;br /&gt;Nas palavras certamente, essas pequenas maravilhas que conseguem transmitir sentimentos de anos e milénios em apenas um som, em pequenos dialectos que transformam o olhar mais triste de alguém em algo radioso.&lt;br /&gt;Pois é através do olhar, que as palavras ganham sentido, pois a sua percepção só é sentida quando é lida com os olhos de quem quer viver na plena consciência do seu ser.&lt;br /&gt;Uma imagem vale mais do que mil palavras?&lt;br /&gt;Uma palavra consegue provocar o olhar mais puro e verdadeiro que todos nós procuramos intensamente toda a vida, aquele olhar que faz parte de nós, aquele olhar que nos diz mil palavras sem dizer nenhuma…&lt;br /&gt;Utilizando as palavras tendo expressar o que o interior quer dizer, através do olho tento dizer aquilo que as palavras às vezes não querem escrever…&lt;br /&gt;Que acontece agora?&lt;br /&gt;Continuo a escrever, libertando os gestos que quero mostrar, criando mil imagens de fantasias e esperanças, palavras essas que alguém irá entender…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-414440410926969870?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/414440410926969870/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2010/01/palavras.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/414440410926969870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/414440410926969870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2010/01/palavras.html' title='Palavras'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-5632748961929508456</id><published>2009-12-24T15:37:00.001Z</published><updated>2009-12-24T15:39:00.802Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='frases soltas'/><title type='text'>desvaneios da mente..</title><content type='html'>Queria contar palavras para explicar equações de pensamentos e emoções. &lt;br /&gt;Queria ter a mão da coragem e a força da ousadia para quebrar as correntes do sonho e entrar na realidade. &lt;br /&gt;Ou então não... &lt;br /&gt;Quero sonhar com sntimentos verdadeiros compostos de imagens majestosas de vida imaginada. &lt;br /&gt;Quero sentir o toque demorado de alguém que faz parte de mim, quero tocar o alguém que sinto em meu redor. &lt;br /&gt;Quero acreditar naquilo que estou a sentir e sentir que o sonho poderá ser realidade e que essa realidade é isto e o meu verdadeiro sonho... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;és tu!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-5632748961929508456?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/5632748961929508456/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/12/desvaneios-da-mente.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/5632748961929508456'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/5632748961929508456'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/12/desvaneios-da-mente.html' title='desvaneios da mente..'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-9135255901991548596</id><published>2009-09-20T21:31:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2010-02-13T20:07:44.305Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='saber escrever saber falar'/><title type='text'>Jed Dickens!</title><content type='html'>Jed Dikens!&lt;br /&gt;Para alguns um nome sem significado, para outros a sagração de uma nova geração de bandas.&lt;br /&gt;Esta jovem banda, residente e natural de Elvas, em pleno Alentejo, procura com as suas letras e as suas tonalidades mostrar que afinal o jovem também sabe tocar. Não precisamos de ir muito longe para dar exemplos, mas em concerto, o público sempre amigo já entoa as suas músicas, como ‘Poor Jimmy’ e ‘Another ride’ em comunhão com a banda.&lt;br /&gt;Formada por três integrantes, amigos acima de tudo, encontraram-se anteriormente noutras bandas, que não só lhes deu a experiência que agora é notável em Jed Dickens, como lhes deu a amizade que partilham no palco.&lt;br /&gt;Com Eduard Dickens na bateria dando a batida e as vozes, John Dickens a acompanhar o compasso no baixo e nas vozes também e Dani Dickens na guitarra e a expressar tudo o que têm a dizer como voz principal, Jed Dickens dão-nos a entender que vieram para ficar e que não vão parar.&lt;br /&gt;Com bastantes originais em sua posse, as suas músicas já são reconhecidas e ouvidas nos mp3, e é com emoção que todos as cantam nos seus concertos.&lt;br /&gt;Para apresentação da banda, lançaram uma maqueta, mas um cd espera-se para breve, entretanto enfrentam a estrada realizando concertos aqui e ali, sendo este aqui Elvas e arredores, e o ali chegando até ao Porto, Alcobaça, Lisboa ou Alburquerque.&lt;br /&gt;  Combatendo a história, mostram que o Grunge ainda está vivo, não esquecendo o Punk Rock, que transformam, assim, as suas músicas numa mistura alternativa de sons e batidas que prendem o público e o fazem bater o pé.&lt;br /&gt;Sempre com divertimento à mistura, esta banda vai cantando os problemas da sociedade em que se encontram e procuram uma saída a estes problemas, utilizando assim a música como escape e como protesto da sua revolução interior.&lt;br /&gt;Esta banda ainda tem muito para dar, e muitos concertos não irão faltar, enquanto não chegam a todas as regiões vamos ouvindo as suas revelações e acreditando que ainda se faz música jovem em Portugal!&lt;br /&gt;Ouçam Música, Ouçam Grunge, Ouçam Punk Rock, Ouçam JED DICKENS!&lt;br /&gt;      Formiga*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;www.myspace.com/jeddickens&lt;br /&gt;www.jeddickens.blogspot.com&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;merchadising : ep (com seis originais): 3 euros&lt;br /&gt;               pin: 1 euro&lt;br /&gt;               tshirt's: rapariga 6 euros e rapaz 6,50 euros&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;é favor de ouvirem, comentarem, e se tiverem alguma dúvida é só comunicarem. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-9135255901991548596?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/9135255901991548596/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/09/jed-dickens.html#comment-form' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/9135255901991548596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/9135255901991548596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/09/jed-dickens.html' title='Jed Dickens!'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-8433404916209877822</id><published>2009-08-25T19:55:00.014+01:00</published><updated>2009-08-25T21:05:19.425+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='FotoArte'/><title type='text'>Egipto</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SpRAmtlINDI/AAAAAAAAAHg/c4ripTDxR7o/s1600-h/vale+dos+reis+(6).JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SpRAmtlINDI/AAAAAAAAAHg/c4ripTDxR7o/s320/vale+dos+reis+(6).JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373991289174373426" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SpRAmXnL9kI/AAAAAAAAAHY/SqkbT9SpziY/s1600-h/Templo+de+Luxor+(6).JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SpRAmXnL9kI/AAAAAAAAAHY/SqkbT9SpziY/s320/Templo+de+Luxor+(6).JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373991283277428290" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SpRAly0KFHI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/vtPlM-c9PUk/s1600-h/Templo+de+Kom+Ombo.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SpRAly0KFHI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/vtPlM-c9PUk/s320/Templo+de+Kom+Ombo.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373991273399719026" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SpRAlkTd7BI/AAAAAAAAAHI/JHtWXEollwE/s1600-h/Templo+de+karnac+(20).JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SpRAlkTd7BI/AAAAAAAAAHI/JHtWXEollwE/s320/Templo+de+karnac+(20).JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373991269504510994" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SpQ_eLdOufI/AAAAAAAAAHA/_iCSBglaPTM/s1600-h/Templo+de+Edfu+(7).JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SpQ_eLdOufI/AAAAAAAAAHA/_iCSBglaPTM/s320/Templo+de+Edfu+(7).JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373990043063859698" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SpQ_d_7OtGI/AAAAAAAAAG4/QF2ANeoqJhs/s1600-h/Saqqara+(2).JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SpQ_d_7OtGI/AAAAAAAAAG4/QF2ANeoqJhs/s320/Saqqara+(2).JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373990039968461922" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SpQ_dbRmhnI/AAAAAAAAAGw/C9bAgZPOIUw/s1600-h/piramides+2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SpQ_dbRmhnI/AAAAAAAAAGw/C9bAgZPOIUw/s320/piramides+2.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373990030130185842" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SpQ9vcG0hzI/AAAAAAAAAGo/eimTgib_4U4/s1600-h/P1070087.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SpQ9vcG0hzI/AAAAAAAAAGo/eimTgib_4U4/s320/P1070087.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373988140567791410" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a 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src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SpQ8t154krI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/S9EcxaZDz5g/s320/onde+esta+o+wally.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373987013621486258" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SpQ8tZUyFBI/AAAAAAAAAGI/byk5CT-EelQ/s1600-h/Museu+Mit+Rahina+(7).JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SpQ8tZUyFBI/AAAAAAAAAGI/byk5CT-EelQ/s320/Museu+Mit+Rahina+(7).JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373987005949678610" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SpQ8AwViIeI/AAAAAAAAAGA/1vEVKWb88eg/s1600-h/Hard+rock+cafe+cairo.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SpQ8AwViIeI/AAAAAAAAAGA/1vEVKWb88eg/s320/Hard+rock+cafe+cairo.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373986239032730082" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a 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alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373984533255580914" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SpQ5SiJwBoI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/FBg5SbGARhQ/s1600-h/casa+n%C3%BAbia+(4).JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SpQ5SiJwBoI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/FBg5SbGARhQ/s320/casa+n%C3%BAbia+(4).JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373983245927974530" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SpQ3iWUFKmI/AAAAAAAAAFI/HpPn2avd6vQ/s1600-h/%C3%A1rvore+da+seda+II.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SpQ3iWUFKmI/AAAAAAAAAFI/HpPn2avd6vQ/s320/%C3%A1rvore+da+seda+II.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373981318604728930" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SpQ2nzk2RTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/R3XLI8TXqu4/s1600-h/Abu+simbel+(7).JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SpQ2nzk2RTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/R3XLI8TXqu4/s320/Abu+simbel+(7).JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373980312847402290" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SpQ17yCZgwI/AAAAAAAAAE4/CQ-EvL9vxIc/s1600-h/Abu+simbel+(4).JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SpQ17yCZgwI/AAAAAAAAAE4/CQ-EvL9vxIc/s320/Abu+simbel+(4).JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373979556520231682" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-8433404916209877822?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/8433404916209877822/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/08/egipto.html#comment-form' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/8433404916209877822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/8433404916209877822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/08/egipto.html' title='Egipto'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SpRAmtlINDI/AAAAAAAAAHg/c4ripTDxR7o/s72-c/vale+dos+reis+(6).JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-498500641707367185</id><published>2009-08-10T21:40:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2009-08-14T22:52:33.104+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vídeos'/><title type='text'>Homenagem a Raúl Solnado (não existem palavras suficientes para caracterizar este grande senhor) Até Sempre!</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-8c257f1888d33b9b" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param 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width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-6059978201890384391</id><published>2009-08-09T20:04:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-08-09T20:12:51.302+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='FotoArte'/><title type='text'>:)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/Sn8fQHCrYbI/AAAAAAAAAEo/tWNZrB-oGes/s1600-h/moto_0080.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/Sn8fQHCrYbI/AAAAAAAAAEo/tWNZrB-oGes/s320/moto_0080.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368043642477568434" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/Sn8e7KYMcsI/AAAAAAAAAEg/cY90Bym6z8M/s1600-h/moto_0084.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/Sn8e7KYMcsI/AAAAAAAAAEg/cY90Bym6z8M/s320/moto_0084.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368043282595869378" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/Sn8evruL4XI/AAAAAAAAAEY/S7J4pSJXvgc/s1600-h/moto_0078.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/Sn8evruL4XI/AAAAAAAAAEY/S7J4pSJXvgc/s320/moto_0078.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368043085388046706" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/Sn8eGTzTxfI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/bUoDP64yJd4/s1600-h/moto_0077.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/Sn8eGTzTxfI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/bUoDP64yJd4/s320/moto_0077.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368042374592447986" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-6059978201890384391?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/6059978201890384391/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/08/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/6059978201890384391'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/6059978201890384391'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/08/blog-post.html' title=':)'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/Sn8fQHCrYbI/AAAAAAAAAEo/tWNZrB-oGes/s72-c/moto_0080.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-4330514436292709564</id><published>2009-08-06T16:49:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2009-08-06T16:53:56.321+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poesia livre'/><title type='text'>Viagens</title><content type='html'>Bate suavemente&lt;br /&gt;A lua sobre o jardim&lt;br /&gt;Não se vê o seu encontro&lt;br /&gt;Não se sabe o seu fim&lt;br /&gt;E canta&lt;br /&gt;Canta sem fim&lt;br /&gt;Entoando os sete acordes&lt;br /&gt;Dedilhando nas cordas da vida&lt;br /&gt;Como a respiração da criança nascida&lt;br /&gt;Olha à tua volta&lt;br /&gt;Repara na imensidão&lt;br /&gt;Tudo volta e rebola&lt;br /&gt;Enquanto me dás a mão&lt;br /&gt;Pensas que é tudo uma ilusão&lt;br /&gt;Mas eu digo não&lt;br /&gt;Olharemos o céu&lt;br /&gt;E as nuvens partirão&lt;br /&gt;Palavras para quê?&lt;br /&gt;Se o que interessa&lt;br /&gt;É o que se vê&lt;br /&gt;Iremos voar&lt;br /&gt;E na terra aterrar&lt;br /&gt;Mandando um abraço&lt;br /&gt;A quem chorar!&lt;br /&gt;Amigos de coração cheio&lt;br /&gt;Ouçam o meu cantar&lt;br /&gt;Juntem-se a nós&lt;br /&gt;E o mundo mudar&lt;br /&gt;Para a Amizade comandar!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-4330514436292709564?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/4330514436292709564/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/08/viagens.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/4330514436292709564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/4330514436292709564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/08/viagens.html' title='Viagens'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-7206339630375679418</id><published>2009-08-06T16:47:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-08-06T16:48:53.961+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='variados'/><title type='text'>Pensamentos</title><content type='html'>"Aquilo que deres a uma mulher, ela vai torna-lo maior. Se deres o seu esperma, ela da-te um bebé. Se lhe deres uma casa, ela vai dar-te um lar. Se lhe deres compras de mercearia, ela vai dar-te uma refeição. Se lhe deres um sorriso, ela vai dar-te o seu coração. Ela multiplica e amplia o que lhe é dado. Portanto, se lhe deres qualquer porcaria, é bom que estejas preparado para receber uma tonelada de merda. "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(autor desconhecido)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-7206339630375679418?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/7206339630375679418/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/08/pensamentos.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/7206339630375679418'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/7206339630375679418'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/08/pensamentos.html' title='Pensamentos'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-4625214801463209546</id><published>2009-07-24T18:18:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-24T19:35:46.480+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vídeos'/><title type='text'>Dr. Martin Luther King - "I Have a Dream" (dispensa explicações)</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-24c94a6294a6b105" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v10.nonxt4.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D24c94a6294a6b105%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331882348%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D17A59687B9D825416BF00D6482030F1BBC383E9E.4CECFF37EE7658806D2A6889941F3A37809B149D%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D24c94a6294a6b105%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DspB5UOUrVWi0LlUQoqqvwAs4zgM&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v10.nonxt4.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D24c94a6294a6b105%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331882348%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D17A59687B9D825416BF00D6482030F1BBC383E9E.4CECFF37EE7658806D2A6889941F3A37809B149D%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D24c94a6294a6b105%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DspB5UOUrVWi0LlUQoqqvwAs4zgM&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I Have a Dream" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of captivity. But one hundred years later, we must face the tragic fact that the Negro is still not free. &lt;br /&gt;One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land.&lt;br /&gt;So we have come here today to dramatize an appalling condition. In a sense we have come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. &lt;br /&gt;This note was a promise that all men would be guaranteed the inalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check which has come back marked "insufficient funds." But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. &lt;br /&gt;So we have come to cash this check -- a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to open the doors of opportunity to all of God's children. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. &lt;br /&gt;It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment and to underestimate the determination of the Negro. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. &lt;br /&gt;The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges. But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. &lt;br /&gt;We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. we must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force. &lt;br /&gt;The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny and their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. &lt;br /&gt;We cannot walk alone. And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" we can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the Negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream. &lt;br /&gt;I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive. &lt;br /&gt;Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair. &lt;br /&gt;I say to you today, my friends, that in spite of the difficulties and frustrations of the moment, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream. &lt;br /&gt;I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal." &lt;br /&gt;I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slaveowners will be able to sit down together at a table of brotherhood. &lt;br /&gt;I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a desert state, sweltering with the heat of injustice and oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice. &lt;br /&gt;I have a dream that my four children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. &lt;br /&gt;I have a dream today. &lt;br /&gt;I have a dream that one day the state of Alabama, whose governor's lips are presently dripping with the words of interposition and nullification, will be transformed into a situation where little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls and walk together as sisters and brothers. &lt;br /&gt;I have a dream today. &lt;br /&gt;I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together. &lt;br /&gt;This is our hope. This is the faith with which I return to the South. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day. &lt;br /&gt;This will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with a new meaning, "My country, 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring." &lt;br /&gt;And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true. So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. &lt;br /&gt;Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania! &lt;br /&gt;Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado! &lt;br /&gt;Let freedom ring from the curvaceous peaks of California! &lt;br /&gt;But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia! &lt;br /&gt;Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee! &lt;br /&gt;Let freedom ring from every hill and every molehill of Mississippi. &lt;br /&gt;From every mountainside, let freedom ring. &lt;br /&gt;When we let freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Free at last! &lt;br /&gt;free at last! &lt;br /&gt;thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Que a Liberdade Ressoe" "Eu tenho um Sonho" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Há cem anos, um grande americano, sob cuja sombra simbólica nos encontramos, assinava a Proclamação da Emancipação. Esse decreto fundamental foi como um raio de luz de esperança para milhões de escravos negros que tinham sido marcados a ferro nas chamas de uma vergonhosa injustiça. Veio como uma aurora feliz para terminar a longa noite do cativeiro. Mas, cem anos mais tarde, devemos enfrentar a realidade trágica de que o Negro ainda não é livre. &lt;br /&gt;Cem anos mais tarde, a vida do Negro é ainda lamentavelmente dilacerada pelas algemas da segregação e pelas correntes da discriminação. Cem anos mais tarde, o Negro continua a viver numa ilha isolada de pobreza, no meio de um vasto oceano de prosperidade material. Cem anos mais tarde, o Negro ainda definha nas margens da sociedade americana, estando exilado na sua própria terra. &lt;br /&gt;Por isso, encontramo-nos aqui hoje para dramaticamente mostrarmos esta extraordinária condição. Num certo sentido, viemos à capital do nosso país para descontar um cheque. Quando os arquitectos da nossa república escreveram as magníficas palavras da Constituição e da Declaração de independência, estavam a assinar uma promissória de que cada cidadão americano se tornaria herdeiro. &lt;br /&gt;Este documento era uma promessa de que todos os homens veriam garantidos os direitos inalienáveis à vida, à liberdade e à procura da felicidade. É óbvio que a América ainda hoje não pagou tal promissória no que concerne aos seus cidadãos de cor. Em vez de honrar este compromisso sagrado, a América deu ao Negro um cheque sem cobertura; um cheque que foi devolvido com a seguinte inscrição: "saldo insuficiente". Porém nós recusamo-nos a aceitar a ideia de que o banco da justiça esteja falido. Recusamo-nos a acreditar que não exista dinheiro suficiente nos grandes cofres de oportunidades deste país. &lt;br /&gt;Por isso viemos aqui cobrar este cheque - um cheque que nos dará quando o recebermos as riquezas da liberdade e a segurança da justiça. Também viemos a este lugar sagrado para lembrar à América da clara urgência do agora. Não é o momento de se dedicar à luxuria do adiamento, nem para se tomar a pílula tranquilizante do gradualismo. Agora é tempo de tornar reais as promessas da Democracia. Agora é o tempo de sairmos do vale escuro e desolado da segregação para o iluminado caminho da justiça racial. Agora é tempo de abrir as portas da oportunidade para todos os filhos de Deus. Agora é tempo para retirar o nosso país das areias movediças da injustiça racial para a rocha sólida da fraternidade. &lt;br /&gt;Seria fatal para a nação não levar a sério a urgência do momento e subestimar a determinação do Negro. Este sufocante verão do legítimo descontentamento do Negro não passará até que chegue o revigorante Outono da liberdade e igualdade. 1963 não é um fim, mas um começo. Aqueles que crêem que o Negro precisava só de desabafar, e que a partir de agora ficará sossegado, irão acordar sobressaltados se o País regressar à sua vida de sempre. Não haverá tranquilidade nem descanso na América até que o Negro tenha garantido todos os seus direitos de cidadania. &lt;br /&gt;Os turbilhões da revolta continuarão a sacudir as fundações do nosso País até que desponte o luminoso dia da justiça. Existe algo, porém, que devo dizer ao meu povo que se encontra no caloroso limiar que conduz ao palácio da justiça. No percurso de ganharmos o nosso legítimo lugar não devemos ser culpados de actos errados. Não tentemos satisfazer a sede de liberdade bebendo da taça da amargura e do ódio. &lt;br /&gt;Temos de conduzir a nossa luta sempre no nível elevado da dignidade e disciplina. Não devemos deixar que o nosso protesto realizado de uma forma criativa degenere na violência física. Teremos de nos erguer uma e outra vez às alturas majestosas para enfrentar a força física com a força da consciência. &lt;br /&gt;Esta maravilhosa nova militancia que engolfou a comunidade negra não nos deve levar a desconfiar de todas as pessoas brancas, pois muitos dos nossos irmãos brancos, como é claro pela sua presença aqui, hoje, estão conscientes de que os seus destinos estão ligados ao nosso destino, e que sua liberdade está intrinsecamente ligada à nossa liberdade. &lt;br /&gt;Não podemos caminhar sozinhos. À medida que caminhamos, devemos assumir o compromisso de marcharmos em frente. Não podemos retroceder. Há quem pergunte aos defensores dos direitos civis: "Quando é que ficarão satisfeitos?" Não estaremos satisfeitos enquanto o Negro for vítima dos incontáveis horrores da brutalidade policial. Não poderemos estar satisfeitos enquanto os nossos corpos, cansados das fadigas da viagem, não conseguirem ter acesso a um lugar de descanso nos motéis das estradas e nos hotéis das cidades. Não poderemos estar satisfeitos enquanto a mobilidade fundamental do Negro for passar de um gueto pequeno para um maior. Nunca poderemos estar satisfeitos enquanto um Negro no Mississipi não pode votar e um Negro em Nova Iorque achar que não há nada pelo qual valha a pena votar. Não, não, não estamos satisfeitos, e só ficaremos satisfeitos quando a justiça correr como a água e a rectidão como uma poderosa corrente. &lt;br /&gt;Sei muito bem que alguns de vocês chegaram aqui após muitas dificuldades e tribulações. Alguns de vocês saíram recentemente de pequenas celas de prisão. Alguns de vocês vieram de áreas onde a vossa procura da liberdade vos deixou marcas provocadas pelas tempestades da perseguição e sofrimentos provocados pelos ventos da brutalidade policial. Vocês são veteranos do sofrimento criativo. Continuem a trabalhar com a fé de que um sofrimento injusto é redentor. &lt;br /&gt;Voltem para o Mississipi, voltem para o Alabama, voltem para a Carolina do Sul, voltem para a Geórgia, voltem para a Luisiana, voltem para as bairros de lata e para os guetos das nossas modernas cidades, sabendo que, de alguma forma, esta situação pode e será alterada. Não nos embrenhemos no vale do desespero. &lt;br /&gt;Digo-lhes, hoje, meus amigos, que apesar das dificuldades e frustrações do momento, ainda tenho um sonho. É um sonho profundamente enraizado no sonho americano. &lt;br /&gt;Tenho um sonho que um dia esta nação levantar-se-á e viverá o verdadeiro significado da sua crença: "Consideramos estas verdades como evidentes por si mesmas, que todos os homens são criados iguais". &lt;br /&gt;Tenho um sonho que um dia nas montanhas rubras da Geórgia os filhos de antigos escravos e os filhos de antigos proprietários de escravos poderão sentar-se à mesa da fraternidade. &lt;br /&gt;Tenho um sonho que um dia o estado do Mississipi, um estado deserto, sufocado pelo calor da injustiça e da opressão, será transformado num oásis de liberdade e justiça. &lt;br /&gt;Tenho um sonho que meus quatro pequenos filhos viverão um dia numa nação onde não serão julgados pela cor da sua pele, mas pela qualidade do seu caractér. &lt;br /&gt;Tenho um sonho, hoje. &lt;br /&gt;Tenho um sonho que um dia o estado de Alabama, cujos lábios do governador actualmente pronunciam palavras de ... e recusa, seja transformado numa condição onde pequenos rapazes negros, e raparigas negras, possam dar-se as mãos com outros pequenos rapazes brancos, e raparigas brancas, caminhando juntos, lado a lado, como irmãos e irmãs. &lt;br /&gt;Tenho um sonho, hoje. &lt;br /&gt;Tenho um sonho que um dia todo os vales serão elevados, todas as montanhas e encostas serão niveladas, os lugares ásperos serão polidos, e os lugares tortuosos serão endireitados, e a glória do Senhor será revelada, e todos os seres a verão, conjuntamente. &lt;br /&gt;Esta é nossa esperança. Esta é a fé com a qual regresso ao Sul. Com esta fé seremos capazes de retirar da montanha do desespero uma pedra de esperança. Com esta fé poderemos transformar as dissonantes discórdias de nossa nação numa bonita e harmoniosa sinfonia de fraternidade. Com esta fé poderemos trabalhar juntos, rezar juntos, lutar juntos, ir para a prisão juntos, ficarmos juntos em posição de sentido pela liberdade, sabendo que um dia seremos livres. &lt;br /&gt;Esse será o dia quando todos os filhos de Deus poderão cantar com um novo significado: "O meu país é teu, doce terra de liberdade, de ti eu canto. Terra onde morreram os meus pais, terra do orgulho dos peregrinos, que de cada localidade ressoe a liberdade". &lt;br /&gt;E se a América quiser ser uma grande nação isto tem que se tornar realidade. &lt;br /&gt;Que a liberdade ressoe então dos prodigiosos cabeços do Novo Hampshire. &lt;br /&gt;Que a liberdade ressoe das poderosas montanhas de Nova Iorque. &lt;br /&gt;Que a liberdade ressoe dos elevados Alleghenies da Pensilvania! &lt;br /&gt;Que a liberdade ressoe dos cumes cobertos de neve das montanhas Rochosas do Colorado! &lt;br /&gt;Que a liberdade ressoe dos picos curvos da Califórnia! &lt;br /&gt;Mas não só isso; que a liberdade ressoe da Montanha de Pedra da Geórgia! &lt;br /&gt;Que a liberdade ressoe da Montanha Lookout do Tennessee! &lt;br /&gt;Que a liberdade ressoe de cada Montanha e de cada pequena elevação do Mississipi. &lt;br /&gt;Que de cada localidade, a liberdade ressoe. &lt;br /&gt;Quando permitirmos que a liberdade ressoe, quando a deixarmos ressoar de cada vila e cada aldeia, de cada estado e de cada cidade, seremos capazes de apressar o dia em que todos os filhos de Deus, negros e brancos, judeus e gentios, protestantes e católicos, poderão dar-se as mãos e cantar as palavras da antiga canção negra: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Liberdade finalmente! &lt;br /&gt;Liberdade finalmente!&lt;br /&gt;Louvado seja Deus, Todo Poderoso, estamos livres, finalmente!"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-4625214801463209546?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=24c94a6294a6b105&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/4625214801463209546/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/07/dr-martin-luther-king-i-have-dream.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/4625214801463209546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/4625214801463209546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/07/dr-martin-luther-king-i-have-dream.html' title='Dr. Martin Luther King - &quot;I Have a Dream&quot; (dispensa explicações)'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-5492204322626730868</id><published>2009-07-08T22:35:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T01:18:10.408+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='FotoArte'/><title type='text'>Céu</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SlURqBfEnTI/AAAAAAAAAEI/Ps7wN5RNwqM/s1600-h/P1050733.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SlURqBfEnTI/AAAAAAAAAEI/Ps7wN5RNwqM/s400/P1050733.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356206745478012210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;um dia destes olhei para o céu, e pensei que daria uma boa foto. Eu gostei :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-5492204322626730868?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/5492204322626730868/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/07/ceu.html#comment-form' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/5492204322626730868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/5492204322626730868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/07/ceu.html' title='Céu'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SlURqBfEnTI/AAAAAAAAAEI/Ps7wN5RNwqM/s72-c/P1050733.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-633053341930743284</id><published>2009-07-03T00:22:00.006+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T01:19:30.469+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vídeos'/><title type='text'>Abbie Hoffman</title><content type='html'>Porque um pouco de história e cultura não faz mal a ninguem, deixo aqui este vídeo sobre Abbie Hoffman, um activista hippie dos anos 60, extremamente radical mas bem realista! O segundo filme, é sobre o filme 'Geração hippie' ('Steal this film'), biografia de Abbie Hoffman e dos anos 60, anos de revolução, em que muitos lutaram pela simples liberdade de ezpresssãoque muitos hoje desprezam por ninharias... Aconselho vivamente!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-22b857ede05c9517" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v14.nonxt5.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D22b857ede05c9517%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331882348%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D3A82C2CB579929C0D91C3666DCAB59EEFAE9CAA9.817047435F770444F8D81BBA81B7145A9B7CA1B9%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D22b857ede05c9517%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3D2lg8dc4JmsizR2dIf1iR579twKo&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v14.nonxt5.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D22b857ede05c9517%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331882348%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D3A82C2CB579929C0D91C3666DCAB59EEFAE9CAA9.817047435F770444F8D81BBA81B7145A9B7CA1B9%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D22b857ede05c9517%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3D2lg8dc4JmsizR2dIf1iR579twKo&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sinopse do filme: GERAÇÃO HIPPIE! É uma expedição que acompanha a ascensão e queda de Abbie Hoffman - activista, radical, fugitivo, amante - e leva-nos por um labirinto de música, sexo, drogas e política, na viragem para os anos 70. A história de Abbie reflecte uma cultura que trocou o conforto pela liberdade, o dinheiro pela paixão, o prazer pelo instinto. Ele iluminou uma legião de soldados renegados da geração hippie. Eram jovens, audazes, provocadores e subversivos. Abbie iria liderá-los e inspirá-los, fazendo-os despertar as suas consciências e ajudando a acabar com a guerra do Vietname. Como um Robin dos Bosques psicológico, ele 'libertava' do materialismo e da tacanhez dos ricos. Ele queimou dinheiro e 'levitou' o Pentágono. Com o amor da sua vida, Anita, ao seu lado, Abbie desafiou o poder e seduziu toda uma geração a entrar em acção. O legado de Abbie revive em todos os que questionam o sistema, que lutam pela liberdade de expressão, e em todos que simplesmente amam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-8b9dab11a1f53149" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v6.nonxt3.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D8b9dab11a1f53149%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331882348%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D48C8D9E0FA45C17EB5DAB00D2A376826F6323B2C.6BCF96B0C4A5336C0F69131BB585546D180C2FA3%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D8b9dab11a1f53149%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3Dl5EsrFVlYfokA4B78dDuGm6uxQ8&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v6.nonxt3.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D8b9dab11a1f53149%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331882348%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D48C8D9E0FA45C17EB5DAB00D2A376826F6323B2C.6BCF96B0C4A5336C0F69131BB585546D180C2FA3%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D8b9dab11a1f53149%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3Dl5EsrFVlYfokA4B78dDuGm6uxQ8&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-633053341930743284?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=22b857ede05c9517&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=8b9dab11a1f53149&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/633053341930743284/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/07/abbie-hoffman.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/633053341930743284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/633053341930743284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/07/abbie-hoffman.html' title='Abbie Hoffman'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-4935720081962314567</id><published>2009-06-27T00:02:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T01:20:13.193+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='palavras juntas'/><title type='text'>Voz do melro</title><content type='html'>Deito-me no vale dos lençóis destinada a revelar por fim o que os sonhos me transmitem. Entro então num místico vale de ilusões, ouvindo sempre ao longe uma voz, uma voz que me vai guiando nos sonhos de cores, pelas montanhas do vento e pelas estradas de música.&lt;br /&gt;Olho para o lado e encontro um melro que me diz: eu cuido de ti! Eu confio nele, pois a voz assim me diz para confiar. Seguimos então os dois, por caminhos lindos que só a percepção colorida consegue perceber. Eu percebo… o melro também… a voz também…&lt;br /&gt;Percorremos lindos caminhos, e enquanto vivemos os sonhos alegres, a voz vai relatando o nosso caminho.&lt;br /&gt;Eles caminham juntos sempre contentes, com o amor na alma, e a paz no coração. Não sabem para onde vão nem quem encontrarão, nem querem fazer. Vão sempre ouvindo a banda sonora preferida, aquela que diz a sua vida, dois corações a baterem em uníssono, peito que canta com alma, sem nunca calar a voz que lhe corre nas veias.&lt;br /&gt;Sim nós caminhamos juntos, eu e o melro, que me canta baixinho ao ouvido, pois a sua música só é reconhecida por quem já viu o arco-íris com os olhos fechados e conseguiu identificar as suas cores quando o mundo se vestia de preto e branco.&lt;br /&gt;Vamos caminhando, ao nosso lado só existem histórias, flores e animais, flores que se abraçam na tormenta da felicidade, peixes que riem porque a vida lhes corre bem, rios de cor azul brilhante que correm, não, dançam, como as árvores que as acompanham num delicioso ritual de harmonia de qualquer batuque, tique taque, conhecido como o bater do coração.&lt;br /&gt;Chegamos então a um largo campo, coberto de cores mágicas segredadas pelo vento à música das árvores, decidimos ficar por aí…&lt;br /&gt;Dizemos então, eu e o melro, a voz amiga que sempre nos guiou e acompanhou, não vens ?&lt;br /&gt;Vão vocês que eu já lá vou ter…&lt;br /&gt;O melro segreda-me ao ouvido… acorda… e a voz abraça-me e assim acordo para o mundo colorido que é a alma da vida do coração de quem canta sem ouvir música…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-4935720081962314567?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/4935720081962314567/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/voz-do-melro.html#comment-form' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/4935720081962314567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/4935720081962314567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/voz-do-melro.html' title='Voz do melro'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-2139694435243035483</id><published>2009-06-27T00:01:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T01:20:40.040+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poesia livre'/><title type='text'>Eu não sei</title><content type='html'>Eu não sei falar disso&lt;br /&gt;Não sei se o isso&lt;br /&gt;De que falam&lt;br /&gt;É o isso que eu penso&lt;br /&gt;Mas penso que é disso&lt;br /&gt;Que eu sofro&lt;br /&gt;Se soubesse eu falar&lt;br /&gt;Sem pensar em sofrer&lt;br /&gt;Não iria ser tão difícil&lt;br /&gt;Saber o isso que quero&lt;br /&gt;Ou o isso que sinto&lt;br /&gt;E quanto mais o isso vive&lt;br /&gt;Mais o coração aperta&lt;br /&gt;Mas desata como um nó&lt;br /&gt;De cada vez que penso nisso&lt;br /&gt;Nisso que é isso &lt;br /&gt;Que é por isso&lt;br /&gt;E disso que o coração é feliz&lt;br /&gt;Quando o isso &lt;br /&gt;Me fala disso&lt;br /&gt;E diz é isso!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-2139694435243035483?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/2139694435243035483/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/eu-nao-sei.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/2139694435243035483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/2139694435243035483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/eu-nao-sei.html' title='Eu não sei'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-7372900635998081522</id><published>2009-06-17T23:34:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T01:20:59.325+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='frases soltas'/><title type='text'>e mais um...</title><content type='html'>Vejo uma sombra ao longe com uma cor brilhante, penso que estou a sonhar por essa luz me deixar contente. O vazio que sinto começa a desvanecer e a sombra aproxima-se e num sorriso diz: sempre sonhei em te ter ! A luz torna-se mais clara e a escuridão desaparece levando com ela as nuvens do passado sombrio...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-7372900635998081522?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/7372900635998081522/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/e-mais-um.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/7372900635998081522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/7372900635998081522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/e-mais-um.html' title='e mais um...'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-3912324128325047325</id><published>2009-06-16T20:43:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T01:21:23.737+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='frases soltas'/><title type='text'>desvaneios da mente</title><content type='html'>Suavemente no luar, ouço um suspirar... Não encontro o seu destino mas sinto o seu respirar... Penso então no seu olhar e sinto-me feliz por apenas ali poder sonhar...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-3912324128325047325?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/3912324128325047325/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/desvaneios-da-mente_16.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/3912324128325047325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/3912324128325047325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/desvaneios-da-mente_16.html' title='desvaneios da mente'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-5843025880084515844</id><published>2009-06-15T22:00:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T01:21:39.652+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='frases soltas'/><title type='text'>desvaneios da mente</title><content type='html'>Sou um pássaro que tenta voar nas calhas desta nuvem, não consigo, porém, me libertar, por mais asas que me ajudem...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-5843025880084515844?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/5843025880084515844/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/desvaneios-da-mente_15.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/5843025880084515844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/5843025880084515844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/desvaneios-da-mente_15.html' title='desvaneios da mente'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-5742307953681258371</id><published>2009-06-15T01:46:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T01:21:59.959+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='palavras juntas'/><title type='text'>Gritos mudos</title><content type='html'>Dizem que o silêncio tudo diz, dizem que o tempo tudo leva.&lt;br /&gt;Esse silêncio não o conheço e o tempo ainda não passou por aqui.&lt;br /&gt;Porque é que as palavras, que supostamente são as fundações do nosso discurso, do nosso pensamento, enfim, parte de nós, porque é que elas magoam e porque é que elas não saiem quando nós necessitamos ou pedimos?&lt;br /&gt;Tanta palavra que temos dentro de nós, mas que quando abrimos a boca se transforma em sussurros sem alma nem direcção.&lt;br /&gt;Como fazer com que os ouvintes percebam as palavras que eu quero dizer e não aquelas que eu conheço?&lt;br /&gt;Porque conseguimos dizer a todo o mundo aquilo que sentimos e a quem interessa, as palavras fecham-se no silêncio de um grito absurdo.&lt;br /&gt;Não consigo respirar, as palavras acumulam-se na garganta com pressa de chegar à saída mas quando lá chegam os obstáculos apresentam-se e o seu percurso volta a entalar-me no meu sufoco.&lt;br /&gt;Não consigo chorar, pois à água secou, os gritos não que querem a companhia de lágrimas, não querem saber se isto é real ou não.&lt;br /&gt;Sorrir? Sim sorrio, não porque quero mas sim porque é mais fácil usar um disfarce do que dizer a realidade.&lt;br /&gt;Mas este sentimento continua, um sentimento que me faz sentir absoluta por não poder fazer nada, ou melhor, por não conseguir fazer nada para mudar a minha situação.&lt;br /&gt;Silêncio? Sim conheço-o, já há muito tempo que habita perto de mim, que me acompanha quando as minhas palavras querem sair e ele teima em as guardar.&lt;br /&gt;Gritos mudos, sim gritos mudos, que se libertam mas que vão sozinhos sem a companhia das palavras.&lt;br /&gt;Tempo…esse já passou e sempre foi tarde demais…tarde demais para falar, tarde demais para sorrir, tarde demais para tentar, tarde demais para voltar, é tarde, muito tarde e os gritos continuam a roer-me a alma que se encontra já perfurada pelos sentimentos que não me abandonam.&lt;br /&gt;Gritos mudos, apenas gritos mudos…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-5742307953681258371?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/5742307953681258371/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/gritos-mudos.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/5742307953681258371'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/5742307953681258371'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/gritos-mudos.html' title='Gritos mudos'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-5002620085936707677</id><published>2009-06-15T01:07:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T01:22:20.933+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='FotoArte'/><title type='text'>momentos de inspiração</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SjWREkKZ0_I/AAAAAAAAAEA/ygscHU2R31g/s1600-h/P1050719.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 277px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SjWREkKZ0_I/AAAAAAAAAEA/ygscHU2R31g/s320/P1050719.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347339640185148402" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bem isto foi um momento daqueles, para mim está lindo como é óbvio, não só porque tem as minhas cores da vida como também tem um símbolo pelo qual eu sigo parte dos meus sonhos. pedi a um verdadeiro artista (sim!) para dar a sua opinião e ele gostou. espero que todos gostem e se não gostarem também não há problema, a arte é isso mesmo, mas quanto a mim, o quadro tem lugar reservado na minha parede do quarto :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-5002620085936707677?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/5002620085936707677/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/momentos-de-inspiracao.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/5002620085936707677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/5002620085936707677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/momentos-de-inspiracao.html' title='momentos de inspiração'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SjWREkKZ0_I/AAAAAAAAAEA/ygscHU2R31g/s72-c/P1050719.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-9025385422275048696</id><published>2009-06-14T23:26:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T01:22:57.094+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Camp Rock</title><content type='html'>"Play my music"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"(Music)&lt;br /&gt;Listen on that radio&lt;br /&gt;As loud as it can go&lt;br /&gt;Wanna dance until my feet can't feel the ground&lt;br /&gt;(Feel the ground)&lt;br /&gt;Say goodbye to all my fears&lt;br /&gt;One good song, they disappear&lt;br /&gt;And nothing in the world can bring me down&lt;br /&gt;( Can bring me down )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hand-clapping&lt;br /&gt;Hip-shaking&lt;br /&gt;Heart-breaking&lt;br /&gt;There's no faking&lt;br /&gt;What you feel when&lt;br /&gt;You're right at home&lt;br /&gt;Yeah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Music's in my soul&lt;br /&gt;I can hear it everyday and every night&lt;br /&gt;It's the one thing on my mind&lt;br /&gt;Music's got control&lt;br /&gt;and I'm never letting go no no&lt;br /&gt;I just wanna play my music&lt;br /&gt;Whoa (music)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Got my six string on my back&lt;br /&gt;Don't need anything but that&lt;br /&gt;Everything I want is here with me&lt;br /&gt;( Here with me )&lt;br /&gt;So forget that fancy car&lt;br /&gt;I don't need to go that far&lt;br /&gt;What's driving me&lt;br /&gt;Is following my dreams yeah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hand-clapping&lt;br /&gt;Earth-shaking&lt;br /&gt;Heart-breaking&lt;br /&gt;There's no faking&lt;br /&gt;What you feel when&lt;br /&gt;you're on a roll&lt;br /&gt;Yeah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Music's in my soul&lt;br /&gt;I can hear it everyday and every night&lt;br /&gt;it's the one thing on my mind&lt;br /&gt;Music's got control&lt;br /&gt;and I'm never letting go no no&lt;br /&gt;I just wanna play my music&lt;br /&gt;I just wanna play my music&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't imagine what I'd be like&lt;br /&gt;( what I'd be like )&lt;br /&gt;Without the sounds of all my heroes&lt;br /&gt;Singin' all my favorite songs&lt;br /&gt;So I can sing along&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Music's in my soul&lt;br /&gt;I can hear it everyday and every night&lt;br /&gt;It's the one thing on my mind&lt;br /&gt;Music's got control&lt;br /&gt;and I'm never letting go no no&lt;br /&gt;I just wanna play my music&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Music's in my soul&lt;br /&gt;I can hear it everyday and every night&lt;br /&gt;It's the one thing on my mind&lt;br /&gt;Music's got control&lt;br /&gt;and I'm never letting go no no&lt;br /&gt;I just wanna play my music all night long"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-9025385422275048696?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/9025385422275048696/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/camp-rock_14.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/9025385422275048696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/9025385422275048696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/camp-rock_14.html' title='Camp Rock'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-916483165040244424</id><published>2009-06-14T23:24:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T01:23:25.756+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Carlos Puebla</title><content type='html'>"Hasta Siempre"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Aprendimos a quererte&lt;br /&gt;Desde la histórica altura&lt;br /&gt;Donde el sol de tu bravura&lt;br /&gt;Le puso un cerco a la muerte.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aquí se queda la clara,&lt;br /&gt;La entrañable transparencia,&lt;br /&gt;De tu querida presencia&lt;br /&gt;Comandante Che Guevara.&lt;br /&gt;Tu mano gloriosa y fuerte&lt;br /&gt;Sobre la historia dispara&lt;br /&gt;Cuando todo santa clara&lt;br /&gt;Se despierta para verte.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aquí se queda la clara,&lt;br /&gt;La entrañable transparencia,&lt;br /&gt;De tu querida presencia&lt;br /&gt;Comandante Che Guevara.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vienes quemando la brisa&lt;br /&gt;Con soles de primavera&lt;br /&gt;Para plantar la bandera&lt;br /&gt;Con la luz de tu sonrisa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aquí se queda la clara,&lt;br /&gt;La entrañable transparencia,&lt;br /&gt;De tu querida presencia&lt;br /&gt;Comandante Che Guevara.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tu amor revolucionario&lt;br /&gt;Te conduce a nueva empresa&lt;br /&gt;Donde esperan la firmeza&lt;br /&gt;De tu brazo libertario.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aquí se queda la clara,&lt;br /&gt;La entrañable transparencia,&lt;br /&gt;De tu querida presencia&lt;br /&gt;Comandante Che Guevara.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seguiremos adelante&lt;br /&gt;Como junto a ti seguimos&lt;br /&gt;Y con Fidel te decimos:&lt;br /&gt;Hasta siempre comandante.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aquí se queda la clara,&lt;br /&gt;La entrañable transparencia,&lt;br /&gt;De tu querida presencia&lt;br /&gt;Comandante Che Guevara."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-916483165040244424?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/916483165040244424/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/carlos-puebla.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/916483165040244424'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/916483165040244424'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/carlos-puebla.html' title='Carlos Puebla'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-8478831839715729857</id><published>2009-06-14T23:22:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T01:23:55.079+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Sérgio Godinho</title><content type='html'>"A vida é feita de pequenos nadas"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"(Segunda-feira &lt;br /&gt;trabalhei de olhos fechados &lt;br /&gt;na terça-feira &lt;br /&gt;acordei impaciente &lt;br /&gt;na quarta-feira &lt;br /&gt;vi os meus braços revoltados &lt;br /&gt;na quinta-feira &lt;br /&gt;lutei com a minha gente &lt;br /&gt;na sexta-feira &lt;br /&gt;soube que ia continuar &lt;br /&gt;no sábado &lt;br /&gt;fui à feira do lugar &lt;br /&gt;mais uma corrida, mais uma viagem &lt;br /&gt;fim-de-semana é para ganhar coragem) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Muito boa noite, senhoras e senhores &lt;br /&gt;muito boa noite, meninos e meninas &lt;br /&gt;muito boa noite, Manuéis e Joaquinas &lt;br /&gt;enfim, boa noite, gente de todas as cores &lt;br /&gt;e feitios e medidas &lt;br /&gt;e perdoem-me as pessoas &lt;br /&gt;que ficaram esquecidas &lt;br /&gt;boa noite, amigos, companheiros, camaradas &lt;br /&gt;a vida é feita de pequenos nadas &lt;br /&gt;a vida é feita de pequenos nadas &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somos tantos a não ter quase nada &lt;br /&gt;porque há uns poucos que têm quase tudo &lt;br /&gt;mas nada vale protestar &lt;br /&gt;o melhor ainda é ser mudo &lt;br /&gt;isto diz de um gabinete &lt;br /&gt;quem acha que o casse-tête &lt;br /&gt;é a melhor das soluções &lt;br /&gt;para resolver situações &lt;br /&gt;delicadas &lt;br /&gt;a vida é feita de pequenos nadas &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E o que é certo &lt;br /&gt;é que os que têm quase tudo &lt;br /&gt;devem tudo aos que têm muito pouco &lt;br /&gt;mas fechem bem esses ouvidos &lt;br /&gt;que o melhor ainda é ser mouco &lt;br /&gt;isto diz paternalmente &lt;br /&gt;quem acha que é ponto assente &lt;br /&gt;que isto nunca vai mudar &lt;br /&gt;e que o melhor é começar a apanhar &lt;br /&gt;umas chapadas &lt;br /&gt;a vida é feita de pequenos nadas &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Segunda-feira &lt;br /&gt;trabalhei de olhos fechados &lt;br /&gt;na terça-feira &lt;br /&gt;acordei impaciente &lt;br /&gt;na quarta-feira &lt;br /&gt;vi os meus braços revoltados &lt;br /&gt;na quinta-feira &lt;br /&gt;lutei com a minha gente &lt;br /&gt;na sexta-feira &lt;br /&gt;soube que ia continuar &lt;br /&gt;no sábado &lt;br /&gt;fui à feira do lugar &lt;br /&gt;mais uma corrida, mais uma viagem &lt;br /&gt;fim-de-semana é para ganhar coragem) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Muito boa noite, senhoras e senhores &lt;br /&gt;muito boa noite, meninos e meninas &lt;br /&gt;muito boa noite, Manuéis e Joaquinas &lt;br /&gt;enfim, boa noite, gente de todas as cores &lt;br /&gt;e feitios e medidas &lt;br /&gt;e perdoem-me as pessoas &lt;br /&gt;que ficaram esquecidas &lt;br /&gt;boa noite, amigos, companheiros, camaradas &lt;br /&gt;a vida é feita de pequenos nadas &lt;br /&gt;a vida é feita de pequenos nadas &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ouvi dizer que quase tudo vale pouco &lt;br /&gt;quem o diz não vale mesmo nada &lt;br /&gt;porque não julguem que a gente &lt;br /&gt;vai ficar aqui especada &lt;br /&gt;à espera que a solução &lt;br /&gt;seja servida em boião &lt;br /&gt;com um rótulo: Veneno! &lt;br /&gt;é para tomar desde pequeno &lt;br /&gt;às colheradas &lt;br /&gt;a vida é feita de pequenos nadas &lt;br /&gt;boa noite, amigos, companheiros, camaradas &lt;br /&gt;a vida é feita de pequenos nadas."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-8478831839715729857?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/8478831839715729857/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/sergio-godinho.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/8478831839715729857'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/8478831839715729857'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/sergio-godinho.html' title='Sérgio Godinho'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-5406947547296116664</id><published>2009-06-13T19:20:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T01:24:24.512+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='frases soltas'/><title type='text'>Desvaneios da mente</title><content type='html'>É no silêncio de um grito que se ouvem as palavras do pensamento profundo...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-5406947547296116664?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/5406947547296116664/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/desvaneios-da-mente.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/5406947547296116664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/5406947547296116664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/desvaneios-da-mente.html' title='Desvaneios da mente'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-7014912670704830425</id><published>2009-06-12T23:36:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T01:24:53.610+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Camp Rock</title><content type='html'>"Gotta find you"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Every time I think I'm closer to the heart...&lt;br /&gt;Of what it means to know just who I am&lt;br /&gt;I think I've finally found a better place to start&lt;br /&gt;But no one ever seems to undestand&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to try to get to where you are&lt;br /&gt;Could it be you're not that far&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're the voice I hear inside my head&lt;br /&gt;The reason that I'm singin'&lt;br /&gt;I need to find you&lt;br /&gt;I gotta find you&lt;br /&gt;You're the missing piece I need&lt;br /&gt;The song inside of me&lt;br /&gt;I need to find you&lt;br /&gt;I gotta find you&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, yeah yeah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're the remedy I'm searching hard to find&lt;br /&gt;To fix some puzzles that I see inside&lt;br /&gt;Painting on my dreams the color of your smile&lt;br /&gt;When I find you it will be alright&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to try to get to where you are&lt;br /&gt;Could it be you're not that far&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're the voice I hear inside my head&lt;br /&gt;The reason that I'm singin'&lt;br /&gt;I need to find you&lt;br /&gt;I gotta find you&lt;br /&gt;You're the missing piece I need&lt;br /&gt;The song inside of me&lt;br /&gt;I need to find you&lt;br /&gt;I gotta find you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Been felling lost, can't find the words to say&lt;br /&gt;Spending all my time stuck in yesterday&lt;br /&gt;Where you are is where I wanna be&lt;br /&gt;Oh next to you... you next to me&lt;br /&gt;Oh! I need to find you...Yeah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're the voice I hear inside my head&lt;br /&gt;The reason that I'm singin'&lt;br /&gt;I need to find you&lt;br /&gt;I gotta find you&lt;br /&gt;yeah!yeah!&lt;br /&gt;You're the missing piece I need&lt;br /&gt;The song inside of me&lt;br /&gt;I need to find you&lt;br /&gt;I gotta find you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're the voice I hear inside my head&lt;br /&gt;The reason that I'm singin'&lt;br /&gt;I need to find you&lt;br /&gt;I gotta find you&lt;br /&gt;You're the missing piece I need&lt;br /&gt;The song inside of me&lt;br /&gt;I need to find you&lt;br /&gt;I gotta find you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah!Yeah!&lt;br /&gt;I gotta find you..."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-7014912670704830425?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/7014912670704830425/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/camp-rock_12.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/7014912670704830425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/7014912670704830425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/camp-rock_12.html' title='Camp Rock'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-7433639403890620177</id><published>2009-06-12T23:35:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T01:25:10.708+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Camp Rock</title><content type='html'>"This is me"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I've always been the kind of girl&lt;br /&gt;That hid my face&lt;br /&gt;So afraid to tell the world&lt;br /&gt;What I've got to say&lt;br /&gt;But I have this dream&lt;br /&gt;Right inside of me&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna let it show it's time&lt;br /&gt;To let you know&lt;br /&gt;It's to let you know&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is real&lt;br /&gt;This is me&lt;br /&gt;I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be, now&lt;br /&gt;Gonna let the light&lt;br /&gt;Shine on me&lt;br /&gt;Now I've found who I am there's no way to hold it in&lt;br /&gt;No more hidding who I wanna be&lt;br /&gt;This is me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you know what it's like&lt;br /&gt;To feel so in the dark&lt;br /&gt;To dream about a life&lt;br /&gt;Where you're the shining star&lt;br /&gt;Even though it seems&lt;br /&gt;Like it's too far away&lt;br /&gt;I have to believe in myself&lt;br /&gt;It's the only way&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is real&lt;br /&gt;This is me&lt;br /&gt;I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be, now&lt;br /&gt;Gonna let the light&lt;br /&gt;Shine on me&lt;br /&gt;Now I've found who I am&lt;br /&gt;There's no way to hold it in&lt;br /&gt;No more hidding who I wanna be&lt;br /&gt;This is me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joe:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're the voice I hear inside my head&lt;br /&gt;The reason that I'm singing&lt;br /&gt;I need to find you, I gotta find you&lt;br /&gt;You're the missing piece I need&lt;br /&gt;The song inside of me&lt;br /&gt;I need to find you, I gotta find you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is real&lt;br /&gt;This is me&lt;br /&gt;I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be, now&lt;br /&gt;Gonna let the light shine on me&lt;br /&gt;Now I've found who I am&lt;br /&gt;There's no way to hold it in&lt;br /&gt;No more hidding who I wanna be&lt;br /&gt;This is me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is me...you're the missing piece I need&lt;br /&gt;The song inside of me&lt;br /&gt;This is me...you're the voice I hear inside of me&lt;br /&gt;The reason that I'm singing&lt;br /&gt;Now I've found who I am&lt;br /&gt;There's no way to hold it in&lt;br /&gt;No more hidding who I wanna be&lt;br /&gt;This is me"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-7433639403890620177?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/7433639403890620177/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/camp-rock.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/7433639403890620177'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/7433639403890620177'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/camp-rock.html' title='Camp Rock'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-8323581003293129297</id><published>2009-06-12T23:34:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T01:25:32.054+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Camp Rock (vejam as letras e percebam! :] )</title><content type='html'>"Here I am"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"They tell you a good girl is quiet&lt;br /&gt;That you should never ask why&lt;br /&gt;Cause it only makes it harder to fit in&lt;br /&gt;You should be happy, excited&lt;br /&gt;Even if you're just invited&lt;br /&gt;Cause the winners need someone to clap for them&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's so hard just waiting&lt;br /&gt;In a line that never moves&lt;br /&gt;It's time you started making&lt;br /&gt;Your own rules&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You gotta scream until there's nothing left&lt;br /&gt;With your last breath&lt;br /&gt;Say here I am&lt;br /&gt;Here I am&lt;br /&gt;Make em listen&lt;br /&gt;Cause there is no way you'll be ignored&lt;br /&gt;Not anymore&lt;br /&gt;So here I am&lt;br /&gt;Here I am&lt;br /&gt;Here I am&lt;br /&gt;Here I am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You only get one life to work it&lt;br /&gt;So who cares if it's not perfect&lt;br /&gt;I say it's close enough to perfect for me&lt;br /&gt;Why should you hide from the thunder&lt;br /&gt;And the lightning that you're under&lt;br /&gt;Cause there ain't nobody else you want to be&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If how you're living isn't working&lt;br /&gt;There's one thing that will help&lt;br /&gt;You gotta finally just stop searching&lt;br /&gt;To find yourself&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You gotta scream until there's nothing left&lt;br /&gt;With your last breath&lt;br /&gt;Say here I am&lt;br /&gt;Here I am&lt;br /&gt;Make em listen&lt;br /&gt;Cause there is no way you'll be ignored&lt;br /&gt;Not anymore&lt;br /&gt;So here I am&lt;br /&gt;Here I am&lt;br /&gt;Here I am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The world better make some room&lt;br /&gt;Yea move over, over&lt;br /&gt;Cause you're coming through&lt;br /&gt;Cause you're coming through&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You gotta scream until there's nothing left&lt;br /&gt;With your last breath&lt;br /&gt;Here I am&lt;br /&gt;Here I am&lt;br /&gt;Make em listen&lt;br /&gt;Cause there is no way you'll be ignored&lt;br /&gt;Not anymore&lt;br /&gt;So here I am&lt;br /&gt;Here I am&lt;br /&gt;Here I am&lt;br /&gt;Here I am&lt;br /&gt;Here I am"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-8323581003293129297?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/8323581003293129297/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/camp-rock-vejam-as-letras-e-percebam.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/8323581003293129297'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/8323581003293129297'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/camp-rock-vejam-as-letras-e-percebam.html' title='Camp Rock (vejam as letras e percebam! :] )'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-3078545943404494338</id><published>2009-06-12T23:31:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T01:25:59.576+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Bobby Mcferrin</title><content type='html'>"Don't worry, be happy"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Here's a little song i wrote,&lt;br /&gt;You might want to sing it note for note,&lt;br /&gt;Don't worry, be happy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In every life we have some trouble,&lt;br /&gt;When you worry you make it double&lt;br /&gt;Don't worry, be happy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dont worry be happy now&lt;br /&gt;Dont worry be happy&lt;br /&gt;Dont worry be happy&lt;br /&gt;Dont worry be happy&lt;br /&gt;Dont worry be happy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aint got no place to lay your head,&lt;br /&gt;Somebody came and took your bed,&lt;br /&gt;Don't worry, be happy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The landlord say your rent is late,&lt;br /&gt;He may have to litigate,&lt;br /&gt;Dont worry (small laugh) be happy,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look at me im happy,&lt;br /&gt;Don't worry, be happy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I give you my phone number,&lt;br /&gt;When your worried, call me,&lt;br /&gt;I make you happy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't worry, be happy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ain't got no cash, aint got no style,&lt;br /&gt;Ain't got no girl to make you smile&lt;br /&gt;But don't worry, be happy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cause when you worry, your face will frown,&lt;br /&gt;And that will bring everybody down,&lt;br /&gt;So don't worry, be happy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't worry, be happy now...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't worry, be happy&lt;br /&gt;Don't worry, be happy&lt;br /&gt;Don't worry, be happy&lt;br /&gt;Don't worry, be happy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now there this song i wrote&lt;br /&gt;I hope you you learned it note for note&lt;br /&gt;Like good little children&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dont worry be happy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Listen to what i say&lt;br /&gt;In your life expect some trouble&lt;br /&gt;When you worry you make it double&lt;br /&gt;Dont worry be happy&lt;br /&gt;Be happy now&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dont worry, be happy&lt;br /&gt;Dont worry, be happy&lt;br /&gt;Dont worry, be happy&lt;br /&gt;Dont worry, be happy&lt;br /&gt;Dont worry&lt;br /&gt;Dont worry be happy&lt;br /&gt;Don't worry, don't worry, don't do it,&lt;br /&gt;Be happy,put a smile on your face,&lt;br /&gt;Don't bring everybody down like this&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't worry, it will soon pass whatever it is,&lt;br /&gt;Don't worry, be happy,&lt;br /&gt;I'm not worried"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-3078545943404494338?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/3078545943404494338/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/bobby-mcferrin.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/3078545943404494338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/3078545943404494338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/bobby-mcferrin.html' title='Bobby Mcferrin'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-1909937821768250716</id><published>2009-06-12T00:45:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T01:26:35.914+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Bob Marley</title><content type='html'>"No Woman, no cry"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No woman no cry&lt;br /&gt;No woman no cry&lt;br /&gt;No woman no cry&lt;br /&gt;No woman no cry&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;say, say,&lt;br /&gt;Say I remember when we used to sit&lt;br /&gt;In a government yard in Trenchtown&lt;br /&gt;Observing the hypocrites&lt;br /&gt;As they would mingle with the good people we meet&lt;br /&gt;Good friends we have&lt;br /&gt;Oh, good friends we lost&lt;br /&gt;Along the way&lt;br /&gt;In this great future,&lt;br /&gt;You can't forget your past&lt;br /&gt;So dry your tears, I seh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No woman no cry&lt;br /&gt;No woman no cry&lt;br /&gt;Little darling, don't shed no tears&lt;br /&gt;No woman no cry&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Say, Say&lt;br /&gt;Said I remember when we use to sit&lt;br /&gt;In the government yard in Trenchtown&lt;br /&gt;And then Georgie would make the fire lights&lt;br /&gt;I seh, log would burnin' through the nights&lt;br /&gt;Then we would cook cornmeal porridge&lt;br /&gt;Of which I'll share with you&lt;br /&gt;My feet is my only carriage&lt;br /&gt;And so I've got to push on through,&lt;br /&gt;Oh, while I'm gone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything 's gonna be alright&lt;br /&gt;Everything 's gonna be alright&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No woman no cry&lt;br /&gt;No woman no cry&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Woman little sister&lt;br /&gt;Don't shed no tears&lt;br /&gt;No woman no cry"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-1909937821768250716?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/1909937821768250716/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/bob-marley_1470.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/1909937821768250716'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/1909937821768250716'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/bob-marley_1470.html' title='Bob Marley'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-7068779218175114333</id><published>2009-06-12T00:43:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T01:29:09.154+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Bob Marley</title><content type='html'>"One Love"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;One Love! &lt;br /&gt;One Heart!&lt;br /&gt;Let's get together and feel all right.&lt;br /&gt;Hear the children cryin' &lt;br /&gt;(One Love!);&lt;br /&gt;Hear the children cryin' &lt;br /&gt;(One Heart!),&lt;br /&gt;Sayin': give thanks and praise &lt;br /&gt;to the Lord and I will feel all right;&lt;br /&gt;Sayin': let's get together &lt;br /&gt;and feel all right. &lt;br /&gt;Wo wo-wo wo-wo!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let them all pass all their dirty &lt;br /&gt;remarks (One Love!);&lt;br /&gt;There is one question &lt;br /&gt;I'd really love to ask (One Heart!):&lt;br /&gt;Is there a place for the hopeless sinner,&lt;br /&gt;Who has hurt all mankind just &lt;br /&gt;to save his own beliefs?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One Love! What about the one heart? &lt;br /&gt;One Heart!&lt;br /&gt;What about? &lt;br /&gt;Let's get together and feel all right&lt;br /&gt;As it was in the beginning &lt;br /&gt;(One Love!);&lt;br /&gt;So shall it be in the end &lt;br /&gt;(One Heart!),&lt;br /&gt;All right!&lt;br /&gt;Give thanks and praise to the Lord &lt;br /&gt;and I will feel all right;&lt;br /&gt;Let's get together &lt;br /&gt;and feel all right.&lt;br /&gt;One more thing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's get together to fight &lt;br /&gt;this Holy Armagiddyon (One Love!),&lt;br /&gt;So when the Man comes there will be no, &lt;br /&gt;no doom (One Song!).&lt;br /&gt;Have pity on those whose &lt;br /&gt;chances grows t'inner;&lt;br /&gt;There ain't no hiding place &lt;br /&gt;from the Father of Creation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sayin': One Love! &lt;br /&gt;What about the One Heart? &lt;br /&gt;(One Heart!)&lt;br /&gt;What about the? &lt;br /&gt;Let's get together and feel all right.&lt;br /&gt;I'm pleadin' to mankind! &lt;br /&gt;(One Love!);&lt;br /&gt;Oh, Lord! &lt;br /&gt;(One Heart) &lt;br /&gt;Wo-ooh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Give thanks and praise to the Lord &lt;br /&gt;and I will feel all right;&lt;br /&gt;Let's get together and feel all right.&lt;br /&gt;Give thanks and praise to the Lord &lt;br /&gt;and I will feel all right;&lt;br /&gt;Let's get together and feel all right."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-7068779218175114333?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/7068779218175114333/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/bob-marley_5222.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/7068779218175114333'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/7068779218175114333'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/bob-marley_5222.html' title='Bob Marley'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-1477768234155668419</id><published>2009-06-12T00:40:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T01:30:04.387+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Bob Marley</title><content type='html'>"Everything gonna be alright"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;""Don't worry about a thing,&lt;br /&gt;'Cause every little thing gonna be all right.&lt;br /&gt;Singin': "Don't worry about a thing,&lt;br /&gt;'Cause every little thing gonna be all right!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rise up this mornin',&lt;br /&gt;Smiled with the risin' sun,&lt;br /&gt;Three little birds&lt;br /&gt;Pitch by my doorstep&lt;br /&gt;Singin' sweet songs&lt;br /&gt;Of melodies pure and true,&lt;br /&gt;Sayin', ("This is my message to you-ou-ou:")&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Singin': "Don't worry 'bout a thing,&lt;br /&gt;'Cause every little thing gonna be all right."&lt;br /&gt;Singin': "Don't worry (don't worry) 'bout a thing,&lt;br /&gt;'Cause every little thing gonna be all right!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rise up this mornin',&lt;br /&gt;Smiled with the risin' sun,&lt;br /&gt;Three little birds&lt;br /&gt;Pitch by my doorstep&lt;br /&gt;Singin' sweet songs&lt;br /&gt;Of melodies pure and true,&lt;br /&gt;Sayin', "This is my message to you-ou-ou:"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Singin': "Don't worry about a thing, worry about a thing, oh!&lt;br /&gt;Every little thing gonna be all right. Don't worry!"&lt;br /&gt;Singin': "Don't worry about a thing" - I won't worry!&lt;br /&gt;"'Cause every little thing gonna be all right."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Singin': "Don't worry about a thing,&lt;br /&gt;'Cause every little thing gonna be all right" - I won't worry!&lt;br /&gt;Singin': "Don't worry about a thing,&lt;br /&gt;'Cause every little thing gonna be all right."&lt;br /&gt;Singin': "Don't worry about a thing, oh no!&lt;br /&gt;'Cause every little thing gonna be all right! "&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-1477768234155668419?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/1477768234155668419/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/bob-marley_601.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/1477768234155668419'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/1477768234155668419'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/bob-marley_601.html' title='Bob Marley'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-9053520057663588641</id><published>2009-06-12T00:39:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T01:31:04.835+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Bob Marley</title><content type='html'>"Get up Stand up"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Get up, stand up: stand up for your rights!&lt;br /&gt;Get up, stand up: stand up for your rights!&lt;br /&gt;Get up, stand up: stand up for your rights!&lt;br /&gt;Get up, stand up: don't give up the fight!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Preacherman, don't tell me,&lt;br /&gt;Heaven is under the earth.&lt;br /&gt;I know you don't know&lt;br /&gt;What life is really worth.&lt;br /&gt;It's not all that glitters is gold;&lt;br /&gt;'Alf the story has never been told:&lt;br /&gt;So now you see the light, eh!&lt;br /&gt;Stand up for your rights. Come on!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Get up, stand up: stand up for your rights!&lt;br /&gt;Get up, stand up: don't give up the fight!&lt;br /&gt;Get up, stand up: stand up for your rights!&lt;br /&gt;Get up, stand up: don't give up the fight!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most people think,&lt;br /&gt;Great God will come from the skies,&lt;br /&gt;Take away everything&lt;br /&gt;And make everybody feel high.&lt;br /&gt;But if you know what life is worth,&lt;br /&gt;You will look for yours on earth:&lt;br /&gt;And now you see the light,&lt;br /&gt;You stand up for your rights. Jah!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Get up, stand up! (Jah, Jah!)&lt;br /&gt;Stand up for your rights! (Oh-hoo!)&lt;br /&gt;Get up, stand up! (Get up, stand up!)&lt;br /&gt;Don't give up the fight! (Life is your right!)&lt;br /&gt;Get up, stand up! (So we can't give up the fight!)&lt;br /&gt;Stand up for your rights! (Lord, Lord!)&lt;br /&gt;Get up, stand up! (Keep on struggling on!)&lt;br /&gt;Don't give up the fight! (Yeah!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We sick an' tired of-a your ism-skism game -&lt;br /&gt;Dyin' 'n' goin' to heaven in-a Jesus' name, Lord.&lt;br /&gt;We know when we understand:&lt;br /&gt;Almighty God is a living man.&lt;br /&gt;You can fool some people sometimes,&lt;br /&gt;But you can't fool all the people all the time.&lt;br /&gt;So now we see the light (What you gonna do?),&lt;br /&gt;We gonna stand up for our rights! (Yeah, yeah, yeah!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So you better:&lt;br /&gt;Get up, stand up! (In the morning! Git it up!)&lt;br /&gt;Stand up for your rights! (Stand up for our rights!)&lt;br /&gt;Get up, stand up!&lt;br /&gt;Don't give up the fight! (Don't give it up, don't give it up!)&lt;br /&gt;Get up, stand up! (Get up, stand up!)&lt;br /&gt;Stand up for your rights! (Get up, stand up!)&lt;br /&gt;Get up, stand up! ( ... )&lt;br /&gt;Don't give up the fight! (Get up, stand up!)&lt;br /&gt;Get up, stand up! ( ... )&lt;br /&gt;Stand up for your rights!&lt;br /&gt;Get up, stand up!&lt;br /&gt;Don't give up the fight!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-9053520057663588641?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/9053520057663588641/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/bob-marley_8657.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/9053520057663588641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/9053520057663588641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/bob-marley_8657.html' title='Bob Marley'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-2969107876350919077</id><published>2009-06-12T00:38:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T01:31:35.228+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Bob Marley</title><content type='html'>"Is this love"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I wanna love you and treat you right&lt;br /&gt;I wanna love you every day and every night&lt;br /&gt;We'll be together with a roof right over our heads&lt;br /&gt;We'll share the shelter of my single bed&lt;br /&gt;We'll share the same room, yeah, oh jah provide the bread&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is this love, is this love, is this love&lt;br /&gt;Is this love that I'm feeling?&lt;br /&gt;Is this love, is this love, is this love&lt;br /&gt;Is this love that I'm feeling?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanna know, wanna know, wanna know now&lt;br /&gt;I got to know, got to know, got to know now&lt;br /&gt;I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I'm willing and able&lt;br /&gt;so I throw my cards on your table&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanna love you, I wanna love and treat, love and treat you right&lt;br /&gt;I wanna love you every day and every night&lt;br /&gt;We'll be together yeah, with a roof right over our heads&lt;br /&gt;We'll share the shelter yeah, oh yeah, of my single bed&lt;br /&gt;We'll share the same room yeah, oh jah provide the bread&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is this love, is this love, is this love&lt;br /&gt;Is this love that I'm feeling?&lt;br /&gt;Is this love, is this love, is this love&lt;br /&gt;Is this love that I'm feeling?&lt;br /&gt;wo-o-o-oah!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yes I know, yes I know, yes I know now&lt;br /&gt;Oh yes I know, yes I know, yes I know now&lt;br /&gt;I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I'm willing and able&lt;br /&gt;so I throw my cards on your table&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See I wanna love ya, I wanna love and treat ya, love and treat you right&lt;br /&gt;I wanna love you every day and every night&lt;br /&gt;We'll be together with a roof right over our heads&lt;br /&gt;We'll share the shelter of my single bed&lt;br /&gt;We'll share the same room yeah, oh jah provide the bread&lt;br /&gt;We'll share the shelter of my single bed"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-2969107876350919077?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/2969107876350919077/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/bob-marley_12.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/2969107876350919077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/2969107876350919077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/bob-marley_12.html' title='Bob Marley'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-1191526702635205170</id><published>2009-06-12T00:36:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T01:32:14.646+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Bob Marley</title><content type='html'>"Could you be loved"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Could you be loved and be loved?&lt;br /&gt;Could you be loved and be loved?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't let them fool ya,&lt;br /&gt;Or even try to school ya! Oh, no!&lt;br /&gt;We've got a mind of our own,&lt;br /&gt;So go to hell if what you're thinking is not right!&lt;br /&gt;Love would never leave us alone,&lt;br /&gt;A-yin the darkness there must come out to light.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Could you be loved and be loved?&lt;br /&gt;Could you be loved, wo now! - and be loved?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(The road of life is rocky and you may stumble too,&lt;br /&gt;So while you point your fingers someone else is judging you)&lt;br /&gt;Love your brotherman!&lt;br /&gt;(Could you be - could you be - could you be loved?&lt;br /&gt;Could you be - could you be loved?&lt;br /&gt;Could you be - could you be - could you be loved?&lt;br /&gt;Could you be - could you be loved?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't let them change ya, oh! -&lt;br /&gt;Or even rearrange ya! Oh, no!&lt;br /&gt;We've got a life to live.&lt;br /&gt;They say: only - only -&lt;br /&gt;only the fittest of the fittest shall survive -&lt;br /&gt;Stay alive! Eh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Could you be loved and be loved?&lt;br /&gt;Could you be loved, wo now! - and be loved?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(You ain't gonna miss your water until your well runs dry;&lt;br /&gt;No matter how you treat him, the man will never be satisfied.)&lt;br /&gt;Say something! (Could you be - could you be - could you beloved?&lt;br /&gt;Could you be - could you be loved?)&lt;br /&gt;Say something! Say something!&lt;br /&gt;(Could you be - could you be - could you be loved?)&lt;br /&gt;Say something! (Could you be - could you be loved?)&lt;br /&gt;Say something! Say something! (Say something!)&lt;br /&gt;Say something! Say something! (Could you be loved?)&lt;br /&gt;Say something! Say something! Reggae, reggae!&lt;br /&gt;Say something! Rockers, rockers!&lt;br /&gt;Say something! Reggae, reggae!&lt;br /&gt;Say something! Rockers, rockers!&lt;br /&gt;Say something! (Could you be loved?)&lt;br /&gt;Say something! Uh!&lt;br /&gt;Say something! Come on!&lt;br /&gt;Say something! (Could you be - could you be - could you beloved?)&lt;br /&gt;Say something! (Could you be - could you be loved?)&lt;br /&gt;Say something! (Could you be - could you be - could you beloved?)&lt;br /&gt;Say something! (Could you be - could you be loved?)"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-1191526702635205170?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/1191526702635205170/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/bob-marley.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/1191526702635205170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/1191526702635205170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/bob-marley.html' title='Bob Marley'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-5074994919099062807</id><published>2009-06-09T23:42:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T01:32:30.833+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Ala dos Namorados</title><content type='html'>"Loucos de Lisboa"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Parava no café quando eu lá estava&lt;br /&gt;Na voz tinha o talento dos pedintes&lt;br /&gt;Entre um cigarro e outro lá cravava a bica&lt;br /&gt;Ao melhor dos seus ouvintes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As mãos e o olhar da mesma cor&lt;br /&gt;Cinzenta como a roupa que trazia&lt;br /&gt;Num gesto que podia ser de amor sorria&lt;br /&gt;E ao partir agradecia&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;São os loucos de Lisboa&lt;br /&gt;Que nos fazem duvidar&lt;br /&gt;Que a Terra gira ao contrário&lt;br /&gt;E os rios nascem no mar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um dia numa sala do quarteto&lt;br /&gt;Passou um filme lá do hospital&lt;br /&gt;Onde o esquecido filmado no gueto entrava&lt;br /&gt;Como artista principal&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Compramos a entrada p'ra sessão&lt;br /&gt;Pra ver tal personagem no écrã&lt;br /&gt;O rosto maltratado era a razão de ele&lt;br /&gt;Não aparecer pela manhã&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mudamos muita vez de calendário&lt;br /&gt;Como o café mudou de freguesia&lt;br /&gt;Deixamos de tributo a quem lá &lt;br /&gt;Pára um louco &lt;br /&gt;A fazer-lhe companhia&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E sempre a mesma voz o mesmo olhar&lt;br /&gt;De quem não mede os dias que vagueiam&lt;br /&gt;Sentado la continua a cravar beijinhos&lt;br /&gt;Às meninas que passeiam."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-5074994919099062807?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/5074994919099062807/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/ala-dos-namorados_09.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/5074994919099062807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/5074994919099062807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/ala-dos-namorados_09.html' title='Ala dos Namorados'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-5230022094575653751</id><published>2009-06-09T23:41:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T01:32:47.654+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Cabeças no ar</title><content type='html'>"Orlando de vez em quando"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sou um patinho assim, assim&lt;br /&gt;Não há quem repare em mim&lt;br /&gt;Não sou triste nem zangado&lt;br /&gt;Eu sou só um pouco reservado&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não sou loiro, não sou alto&lt;br /&gt;Não corro muito depressa&lt;br /&gt;Não tenho tempo de salto&lt;br /&gt;Não remato nunca de cabeça&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu sou um Orlando&lt;br /&gt;E só venho à escola&lt;br /&gt;De vez em quando&lt;br /&gt;De vez em quando&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Os dias lá no meu meio&lt;br /&gt;São muito mais não que sim&lt;br /&gt;Não sou um patinho feio&lt;br /&gt;As águas é que fogem de mim&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Se as águas fossem iguais&lt;br /&gt;P’ra quem começa a nadar&lt;br /&gt;Talvez eu viesse mais&lt;br /&gt;Talvez até ousasse voar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu sou um Orlando&lt;br /&gt;E só venho à escola&lt;br /&gt;De vez em quando&lt;br /&gt;De vez em quando&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Se alguém se lembrar de mim&lt;br /&gt;E disser: “O Orlando veio.”&lt;br /&gt;Diga-lhe que hoje vim&lt;br /&gt;Mas fiquei sozinho no recreio&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu sou um Orlando&lt;br /&gt;E só venho à escola&lt;br /&gt;De vez em quando&lt;br /&gt;De vez em quando"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-5230022094575653751?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/5230022094575653751/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/cabecas-no-ar_4436.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/5230022094575653751'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/5230022094575653751'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/cabecas-no-ar_4436.html' title='Cabeças no ar'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-6895951856831653882</id><published>2009-06-09T01:36:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T01:33:23.468+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Cabeças no ar</title><content type='html'>"Hora de acordar"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"É hora de acordar, chama o despertador&lt;br /&gt;Toda a casa me chama, o que dava por ficar&lt;br /&gt;Mais meia hora na cama, mas é hora de acordar&lt;br /&gt;É hora de acordar...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;É hora de abalar, seis quilos pesa a sacola&lt;br /&gt;É o peso da instrução, chego tarde às horas da escola&lt;br /&gt;Saio de lá cidadão, é hora de abalar&lt;br /&gt;É hora de abalar...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quem me dera ir à escola, num feliz passo ligeiro&lt;br /&gt;E não com ar de quem vai para a cadeira do barbeiro&lt;br /&gt;Quem me dera ir escola, num feliz passo ligeiro...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quem me dera perguntar, sem ter medo de errar&lt;br /&gt;Será o sol uma gema, de um ovo por estrelar&lt;br /&gt;Quem me resolve o problema, que é hora de acordar&lt;br /&gt;É hora de acordar...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quem me dera estar na sala, como quando estou lá fora&lt;br /&gt;Onde tudo me interessa, e o tempo não tem hora&lt;br /&gt;Quem me dera estar na sala, &lt;br /&gt;Como quando estou lá fora...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quem me dera ir à escola, num feliz passo ligeiro&lt;br /&gt;E não com ar de quem vai para a cadeira do barbeiro&lt;br /&gt;Quem me dera ir escola, num feliz passo ligeiro...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;É hora de acordar&lt;br /&gt;É hora de acordar&lt;br /&gt;É hora de acordar&lt;br /&gt;É hora de acordar&lt;br /&gt;É hora de acordar"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-6895951856831653882?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/6895951856831653882/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/cabecas-no-ar_270.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/6895951856831653882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/6895951856831653882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/cabecas-no-ar_270.html' title='Cabeças no ar'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-6744254266567839948</id><published>2009-06-09T01:34:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T01:33:45.047+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Cabeças no ar</title><content type='html'>"Primeiro Beijo"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Recebi o teu bilhete&lt;br /&gt;Para ir ter ao jardim&lt;br /&gt;A tua caixa de segredos&lt;br /&gt;Queres abri-la para mim&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E tu não vais fraquejar&lt;br /&gt;Ninguém vai saber de nada&lt;br /&gt;Juro não me vou gabar&lt;br /&gt;A minha boca é sagrada&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De estar mesmo atrás de ti&lt;br /&gt;Ver-te da minha carteira&lt;br /&gt;Sei de cor o teu cabelo&lt;br /&gt;Sei o champôo a que cheira&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Já não como já não durmo&lt;br /&gt;E eu caia se te minto&lt;br /&gt;Haverá gente informada&lt;br /&gt;Se é amor tudo o que sinto&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quero o meu primeiro beijo&lt;br /&gt;Não quero ficar impune&lt;br /&gt;E dizer-te cara a cara&lt;br /&gt;Muito mais é o que nos une&lt;br /&gt;Que aquilo que nos separa&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Promete lá outro encontro&lt;br /&gt;Foi tão fugaz que nem deu&lt;br /&gt;Para ver como era o fogo&lt;br /&gt;Que a tua boca prometeu&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pensava que a tua língua&lt;br /&gt;Sabia à flor do jasmim&lt;br /&gt;Sabe a chicla de mentol&lt;br /&gt;E eu gosto dela assim&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quero o meu primeiro beijo&lt;br /&gt;Não quero ficar impune&lt;br /&gt;E dizer-te cara a cara&lt;br /&gt;Muito mais é o que nos une&lt;br /&gt;Que aquilo que nos separa"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-6744254266567839948?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/6744254266567839948/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/cabecas-no-ar_09.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/6744254266567839948'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/6744254266567839948'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/cabecas-no-ar_09.html' title='Cabeças no ar'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-6358610983521086766</id><published>2009-06-09T01:32:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T01:34:05.109+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Cabeças no ar</title><content type='html'>"Baile da biblioteca"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sou o vosso professor&lt;br /&gt;E sei de um baile de gala&lt;br /&gt;Que se dá todas as noites&lt;br /&gt;Nas estantes da tua sala&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Olha Ulisses o Argonauta&lt;br /&gt;A dançar com o mar à proa&lt;br /&gt;Aquele é o senhor Fernando&lt;br /&gt;A dançar com a sua Pessoa&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Olha o mestre Gil Vicente&lt;br /&gt;Entre a raínha e o bobo&lt;br /&gt;E aquele à frente é o Aleixo&lt;br /&gt;É o poeta do povo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;É o baile, é o baile, é o baile&lt;br /&gt;É o baile, é o baile, é o baile&lt;br /&gt;É o baile, é o baile, é o baile, é o baile&lt;br /&gt;Da biblioteca&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sai o Zorro de rompante&lt;br /&gt;Numa lombada de couro&lt;br /&gt;A declarar ser migrante&lt;br /&gt;Para a ilha do tesouro&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ao piano o Conde d'Abranhos&lt;br /&gt;Não dá sinais de abrandar&lt;br /&gt;É preciso o sol nascer&lt;br /&gt;Para o baile acabar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Como se anda Dom Quixote&lt;br /&gt;Largando da mão a lança&lt;br /&gt;Vamos dormir criaturas&lt;br /&gt;Que amanhã também se dança&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;É o baile, é o baile, é o baile&lt;br /&gt;É o baile, é o baile, é o baile&lt;br /&gt;É o baile, é o baile, é o baile, é o baile&lt;br /&gt;Da biblioteca"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-6358610983521086766?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/6358610983521086766/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/cabecas-no-ar.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/6358610983521086766'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/6358610983521086766'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/cabecas-no-ar.html' title='Cabeças no ar'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-7823309466427759913</id><published>2009-06-09T01:31:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T01:34:34.544+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>António Variações</title><content type='html'>"Canção do engate"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Tu estás livre e eu estou livre&lt;br /&gt;E há uma noite para passar&lt;br /&gt;Porque não vamos unidos&lt;br /&gt;Porque não vamos ficar&lt;br /&gt;Na aventura dos sentidos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tu estás só e eu mais só estou&lt;br /&gt;Que tu tens o meu olhar&lt;br /&gt;Tens a minha mão aberta&lt;br /&gt;À espera de se fechar&lt;br /&gt;Nessa tua mão deserta&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vem que o amor&lt;br /&gt;Não é o tempo&lt;br /&gt;Nem é o tempo&lt;br /&gt;Que o faz&lt;br /&gt;Vem que o amor&lt;br /&gt;É o momento&lt;br /&gt;Em que eu me dou&lt;br /&gt;Em que te dás&lt;br /&gt;Tu que buscas companhia&lt;br /&gt;E eu que busco quem quiser&lt;br /&gt;Ser o fim desta energia&lt;br /&gt;Ser um corpo de prazer&lt;br /&gt;Ser o fim de mais um dia&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tu continuas à espera&lt;br /&gt;Do melhor que já não vem&lt;br /&gt;E a esperança foi encontrada&lt;br /&gt;Antes de ti por alguém&lt;br /&gt;E eu sou melhor que nada"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-7823309466427759913?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/7823309466427759913/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/antonio-variacoes_09.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/7823309466427759913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/7823309466427759913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/antonio-variacoes_09.html' title='António Variações'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-7936124147149393570</id><published>2009-06-07T23:57:00.006+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T01:35:11.070+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Ala dos Namorados (letra de Florbela Espanca)</title><content type='html'>"Perdidamente"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ser poeta é ser mais alto,é ser maior&lt;br /&gt;do que os homens, morder como quem beija&lt;br /&gt;É ser mendigo e dar como seja&lt;br /&gt;É ser rei do reino de aquém e de além dor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;É ter de mil desejos o explendor&lt;br /&gt;E não saber sequer que se deseja&lt;br /&gt;É ter ca dentro um astro que flameja&lt;br /&gt;É ter garras e asas de condor...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;É ter fome, é ter sede de infinito&lt;br /&gt;Por essas manhãs d'ouro e de cetim&lt;br /&gt;É condensar o mundo num só grito...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E é amar-te assim, perdidamente&lt;br /&gt;É seres alma e sangue e vida em mim&lt;br /&gt;E dizê-lo cantando, a toda a gente..."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-7936124147149393570?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/7936124147149393570/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/ala-dos-namorados-letra-de-florbela.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/7936124147149393570'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/7936124147149393570'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/ala-dos-namorados-letra-de-florbela.html' title='Ala dos Namorados (letra de Florbela Espanca)'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-5544150899355300554</id><published>2009-06-07T23:57:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T01:34:53.312+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>António Variações</title><content type='html'>"Estou além"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Não consigo dominar&lt;br /&gt;Este estado de ansiedade&lt;br /&gt;A pressa de chegar&lt;br /&gt;P'ra não chegar tarde&lt;br /&gt;Não sei de que é que eu fujo&lt;br /&gt;Será desta solidão&lt;br /&gt;Mas porque é que eu recuso&lt;br /&gt;Quem quer dar-me a mão&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vou continuar a procurar a quem eu me quero dar&lt;br /&gt;Porque até aqui eu só&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quero quem&lt;br /&gt;Quem eu nunca vi&lt;br /&gt;Porque eu só quero quem&lt;br /&gt;Quem não conheci&lt;br /&gt;Porque eu só quero quem&lt;br /&gt;Quem eu nunca vi&lt;br /&gt;Porque eu só quero quem&lt;br /&gt;Quem não conheci&lt;br /&gt;Porque eu só quero quem&lt;br /&gt;Quem eu nunca vi&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Esta insatisfação&lt;br /&gt;Não consigo compreender&lt;br /&gt;Semtre esta sensação&lt;br /&gt;Que estou a perder&lt;br /&gt;Tenho pressa de sair&lt;br /&gt;Quero sentir ao chegar&lt;br /&gt;Vontade de partir&lt;br /&gt;P'ra outro lugar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vou continuar a procurar o meu mundo, o meu lugar&lt;br /&gt;Porque até aqui eu só&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Estou bem&lt;br /&gt;Aonde não estou&lt;br /&gt;Porque eu só estou bem&lt;br /&gt;Aonde eu não vou&lt;br /&gt;Porque eu só estou bem&lt;br /&gt;Aonde não estou&lt;br /&gt;Porque eu só estou bem&lt;br /&gt;Aonde eu não vou&lt;br /&gt;Porque eu só estou bem&lt;br /&gt;Aonde não estou"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-5544150899355300554?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/5544150899355300554/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/antonio-variacoes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/5544150899355300554'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/5544150899355300554'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/antonio-variacoes.html' title='António Variações'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-303601207899384873</id><published>2009-06-07T23:56:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T01:36:16.877+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Ala dos Namorados</title><content type='html'>"Solta-se o beijo"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Espreito por uma porta encostada&lt;br /&gt;Sigo as pegadas de luz&lt;br /&gt;Peço ao gato "xiu" para não me denunciar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toca o relógio sem cuco&lt;br /&gt;Dá horas à cusquice das vizinhas e eu&lt;br /&gt;Confesso às paredes de quem gosto&lt;br /&gt;Elas conhecem-te bem&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aconhego-me nesta cumplicidade&lt;br /&gt;Deixo-me ir nos trilhos traçados&lt;br /&gt;Pela saudade de te encontrar&lt;br /&gt;Ainda onde te deixei&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trago-te o beijo prometido&lt;br /&gt;Sei o teu cheiro mergulho no teu tocar&lt;br /&gt;Abraças a guitarra e voas para além da lua&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amarro o beijo que se quer soltar&lt;br /&gt;Espero que me sintas para me entregar&lt;br /&gt;A cadeira, as costas, o cabelo e a cigarrilha&lt;br /&gt;A dança do teu ombro...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E nesse instante em que o silêncio&lt;br /&gt;É o bater do coração&lt;br /&gt;Fecha-se a porta&lt;br /&gt;Pára o relógio&lt;br /&gt;As vizinhas recolhem&lt;br /&gt;Tu olhas-me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tu olhas-me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trago-te o beijo prometido&lt;br /&gt;Sei o teu cheiro, mergulho no teu tocar&lt;br /&gt;Abraças a guitarra e voas para além da lua&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amarro o beijo que se quer soltar&lt;br /&gt;Espero que me sintas para me entregar&lt;br /&gt;A cadeira, as costas, o cabelo e a cigarrilha&lt;br /&gt;A dança do teu ombro...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E, nesse instante em que o silêncio&lt;br /&gt;É o bater do coração&lt;br /&gt;Fecha-se a porta&lt;br /&gt;Pára o relógio&lt;br /&gt;As vizinhas recolhem&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Solta-se o beijo, o gato mia...&lt;br /&gt;Solta-se o beijo, o gato mia...&lt;br /&gt;Solta-se o beijo, o gato mia...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tu olhas-me...&lt;br /&gt;Tu olhas-me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Solta-se o beijo, o gato mia...&lt;br /&gt;Solta-se o beijo, o gato mia...&lt;br /&gt;Solta-se o beijo, o gato mia...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Espreito por uma porta encostada&lt;br /&gt;Sigo as pegadas de luz&lt;br /&gt;Peço ao gato "xiu" para não me denunciar"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-303601207899384873?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/303601207899384873/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/ala-dos-namorados_2434.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/303601207899384873'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/303601207899384873'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/ala-dos-namorados_2434.html' title='Ala dos Namorados'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-4825840851410234042</id><published>2009-06-07T23:55:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T01:37:54.353+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Ala dos Namorados</title><content type='html'>"Ao fim do mundo (e ao cabo do teu ser)"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Vou alimentar a tua sede de querer&lt;br /&gt;Vou acicatar a tua fome de prazer&lt;br /&gt;Vou ao fim do mundo&lt;br /&gt;Vou tocar lá no teu fundo &lt;br /&gt;Vou fechar o punho e pôr o sangue a ferver&lt;br /&gt;Vou cerrar os dentes e morder o teu saber&lt;br /&gt;Vou ao fim do mundo&lt;br /&gt;Vou gritar lá no teu fundo &lt;br /&gt;Sou teu&lt;br /&gt;Sou teu &lt;br /&gt;Sou assim só para quem dá&lt;br /&gt;E só assim faz com que eu vá&lt;br /&gt;Ao fim do mundo&lt;br /&gt;Ao fim e ao cabo do teu ser &lt;br /&gt;Sou e só apenas uma gota de suor&lt;br /&gt;Sou um claro aceno quando rufa o tambor&lt;br /&gt;Sou o fim do mundo&lt;br /&gt;A contagem ao segundo &lt;br /&gt;És todo o tempo que me resta à liberdade&lt;br /&gt;És a minha luta que só fala com verdade&lt;br /&gt;És o fim do mundo&lt;br /&gt;À entrada da cidade &lt;br /&gt;Sou teu&lt;br /&gt;Sou teu &lt;br /&gt;Sou assim só para quem dá&lt;br /&gt;E só assim faz com que eu vá&lt;br /&gt;Ao fim do mundo&lt;br /&gt;Ao fim e ao cabo do teu ser &lt;br /&gt;Vou fechar o punho e pôr o sangue a ferver&lt;br /&gt;Vou cerrar os dentes e morder o teu saber&lt;br /&gt;Vou ao fim do mundo&lt;br /&gt;Vou gritar lá no teu fundo"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-4825840851410234042?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/4825840851410234042/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/ala-dos-namorados_9202.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/4825840851410234042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/4825840851410234042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/ala-dos-namorados_9202.html' title='Ala dos Namorados'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-6503931212800663601</id><published>2009-06-07T00:09:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T01:38:09.362+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Ala dos namorados</title><content type='html'>"A história do Zé Passarinho"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Pela saída que tem&lt;br /&gt;Da vadiagem alguém&lt;br /&gt;Chamou-lhe o Zé Passarinho&lt;br /&gt;Fala em verso e as mulheres&lt;br /&gt;Ao fim de duas colheres&lt;br /&gt;Leva-as no bico p´ró ninho&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sabe os fados do Alfredo&lt;br /&gt;Rima que até mete medo&lt;br /&gt;Nesta função é doutor&lt;br /&gt;Tem os tiques de fadista&lt;br /&gt;Mão no bolso, lenço e risca&lt;br /&gt;"Baixem a luz por favor!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uma triste noite ao frio&lt;br /&gt;Cantava-se ao desafio&lt;br /&gt;Para aquecer as paixões&lt;br /&gt;Quando um estranho se levanta&lt;br /&gt;Para mostrar como se canta&lt;br /&gt;Faz-se à Rosa dos Limões&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O povo ficou sentido&lt;br /&gt;Com aquele destemido&lt;br /&gt;"Ha-des" morrer engasgado!&lt;br /&gt;Palavra puxa palavra&lt;br /&gt;Desata tudo à estalada&lt;br /&gt;Com o posto ali ao lado&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nem foi preciso a carrinha&lt;br /&gt;Tudo na sua perninha&lt;br /&gt;Numa linda procissão&lt;br /&gt;Das perguntas com carinho&lt;br /&gt;Ficou preso o Passarinho&lt;br /&gt;Só para investigação&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nasce o dia atrás da Sé&lt;br /&gt;E ninguém arreda pé&lt;br /&gt;Nem por dó, nem por esmola&lt;br /&gt;O povo ficou sentado&lt;br /&gt;Para ouvir cantar o fado&lt;br /&gt;Passarinho na gaiola"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-6503931212800663601?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/6503931212800663601/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/ala-dos-namorados_07.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/6503931212800663601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/6503931212800663601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/ala-dos-namorados_07.html' title='Ala dos namorados'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-1706531490745884966</id><published>2009-06-07T00:08:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T01:38:29.361+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Ala dos namorados</title><content type='html'>"Razão de viver"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Deixa ser como o luar, à minha vontade&lt;br /&gt;como a águia ser a águia, sem nenhum problema...&lt;br /&gt;ser a cor teu grão de areia, a minha unidade&lt;br /&gt;do deserto e do mar, que coisa pequena...&lt;br /&gt;ter do tempo a claridade do sol promissor&lt;br /&gt;como o índio, ser o índio e valer a pena&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E valer a pena...&lt;br /&gt;sem outra razão e valer a pena...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ai se eu pudesse... ter a paz...!&lt;br /&gt;para te dar... um pouco do céu!&lt;br /&gt;um pouco do sonho, um pouco de paz...&lt;br /&gt;sem outra razão já valia a pena...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ser de rir e de chorar&lt;br /&gt;ser do meu momento&lt;br /&gt;como o vento, ser o vento e a sua feição...&lt;br /&gt;ter da flor a sua essência só pelo prazer...&lt;br /&gt;só o ser... só o ser sem a condição...&lt;br /&gt;amar-te só porque sim e valer a pena&lt;br /&gt;só o sim, só o sim sem a explicação...&lt;br /&gt;e valer a pena... sem outra razão e valer a pena..."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-1706531490745884966?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/1706531490745884966/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/ala-dos-namorados.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/1706531490745884966'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/1706531490745884966'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/ala-dos-namorados.html' title='Ala dos namorados'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-4705063701660190764</id><published>2009-06-07T00:07:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T01:38:44.261+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Louis Armstrong</title><content type='html'>"What a wonderful world"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I see trees of green, red roses too&lt;br /&gt;I see them bloom for me and you&lt;br /&gt;And I think to myself, what a wonderful world&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I see skies so blue and clouds so white&lt;br /&gt;The bright blessed day, the dark say goodnight&lt;br /&gt;And I think to myself, what a wonderful world&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The colors of the rainbow, so pretty in the sky&lt;br /&gt;Are also on the faces of people going by&lt;br /&gt;I see friends shaking hands, saying, "how do you do?"&lt;br /&gt;They're really saying, "I love you"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hear babies cry, I watch them grow&lt;br /&gt;They'll learn much more, than I'll never know&lt;br /&gt;And I think to myself, what a wonderful world&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I think to myself, what a wonderful world"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-4705063701660190764?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/4705063701660190764/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/louis-armstrong.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/4705063701660190764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/4705063701660190764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/louis-armstrong.html' title='Louis Armstrong'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-7374606444072385082</id><published>2009-06-07T00:05:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T01:38:58.497+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Jane Monheit</title><content type='html'>"Over the rainbow"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Somewhere over the rainbow&lt;br /&gt;Way up high&lt;br /&gt;There's a land that I heard of&lt;br /&gt;Once in a lullaby&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere over the rainbow&lt;br /&gt;Skies are blue&lt;br /&gt;And the dreams that you dare to dream&lt;br /&gt;Really do come true&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someday I'll wish upon a star&lt;br /&gt;And wake up where the clouds are far behind me&lt;br /&gt;Where troubles melt like lemon drops&lt;br /&gt;Away above the chimney tops&lt;br /&gt;That's where you'll find me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere over the rainbow&lt;br /&gt;Bluebirds fly&lt;br /&gt;Birds fly over the rainbow&lt;br /&gt;Why then, oh why can't I?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If happy little bluebirds fly&lt;br /&gt;beyond the rainbow&lt;br /&gt;Oh why, oh why can't I?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-7374606444072385082?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/7374606444072385082/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/jane-monheit.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/7374606444072385082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/7374606444072385082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/jane-monheit.html' title='Jane Monheit'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-3674462773629115176</id><published>2009-06-06T01:22:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T01:39:16.627+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Pearl Jam</title><content type='html'>"Last kiss"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh where, oh where, can my baby be?&lt;br /&gt;The Lord took her away from me.&lt;br /&gt;She's gone to heaven so I've got to be good,&lt;br /&gt;So I can see my baby when I leave this world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were out on a date in my daddy's car,&lt;br /&gt;We hadn't driven very far.&lt;br /&gt;There in the road straight ahead,&lt;br /&gt;A car was stalled, the engine was dead.&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't stop, so I swerved to the right,&lt;br /&gt;I'll never forget the sound that night.&lt;br /&gt;The screaming tires, the busting glass,&lt;br /&gt;The painful scream that I heard last.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh where, oh where, can my baby be?&lt;br /&gt;The Lord took her away from me.&lt;br /&gt;She's gone to heaven so I've got to be good,&lt;br /&gt;So I can see my baby when I leave this world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I woke up, the rain was pouring down,&lt;br /&gt;There were people standing all around.&lt;br /&gt;Something warm flowing through my eyes,&lt;br /&gt;But somehow I found my baby that night.&lt;br /&gt;I lifted her head, she looked at me and said;&lt;br /&gt;"Hold me darling just a little while."&lt;br /&gt;I held her close I kissed her - our last kiss,&lt;br /&gt;I found the love that I knew I had missed.&lt;br /&gt;Well now she's gone even though I hold her tight,&lt;br /&gt;I lost my love, my life that night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh where, oh where, can my baby be?&lt;br /&gt;The Lord took her away from me.&lt;br /&gt;She's gone to heaven so I've got to be good,&lt;br /&gt;So I can see my baby when I leave this world."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-3674462773629115176?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/3674462773629115176/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/pearl-jam.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/3674462773629115176'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/3674462773629115176'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/pearl-jam.html' title='Pearl Jam'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-4065601388181761922</id><published>2009-06-06T01:20:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T01:39:59.051+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Sara Tavares</title><content type='html'>"Bom feeling"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, yeah,yeah&lt;br /&gt;Yeah,yeah, yeah(2x)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bom feeling...&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, yeah, yeah...&lt;br /&gt;Bom feeling...&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, yeah, yeah...&lt;br /&gt;Bom feeling...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deixa a janela do sorriso aberta,&lt;br /&gt;Coisa boa, boa,&lt;br /&gt;Coisa desperta,&lt;br /&gt;Canta caia, caia nos liberta&lt;br /&gt;Caia, Caia&lt;br /&gt;Deixa a janela do sorriso aberta,&lt;br /&gt;Coisa boa, boa,&lt;br /&gt;Coisa desperta,&lt;br /&gt;Canta caia, caia nos liberta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dá-me um...&lt;br /&gt;Bom feeling...&lt;br /&gt;Bom feeling...&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, yeah, Yeah&lt;br /&gt;Bom feeling...&lt;br /&gt;Bom feeling...&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, yeah, Yeah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deixa de complicação,&lt;br /&gt;Deixa de confusão,&lt;br /&gt;Liberta a alma dessa prisão,&lt;br /&gt;Deixa-te guiar pelo coração.&lt;br /&gt;Deixa de complicação&lt;br /&gt;Deixa de confusão&lt;br /&gt;Liberta a alma dessa prisão&lt;br /&gt;Deixa-te guiar pelo coração.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dá-me um...&lt;br /&gt;Bom feeling...&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, yeah, Yeah&lt;br /&gt;Bom feeling...&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, yeah, Yeah&lt;br /&gt;Bom feeling...&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, yeah, Yeah&lt;br /&gt;Bom feeling...&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, yeah, Yeah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Esse coração assim desagasalhado, vais sair assim?&lt;br /&gt;- O sorriso aonde é que está?&lt;br /&gt;- 'Tás a pensar que vais aonde assim?&lt;br /&gt;- Tens mesmo é que buscar, buscar, buscar, ir fundo, ri só, ri só! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dá-me um bom feeling dentro de ti,&lt;br /&gt;Que eu dou-te um bom feeling dentro de mim,&lt;br /&gt;Bom feeling para voar,&lt;br /&gt;Bom feeling para motivar!&lt;br /&gt;Bom feeling dentro de ti,&lt;br /&gt;Que eu dou-te um bom feeling dentro de mim,&lt;br /&gt;Bom feeling para levar,&lt;br /&gt;Bom feeling para nos fazer sorrir!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bom feeling...&lt;br /&gt;Bom feeling...&lt;br /&gt;Bom feeling...&lt;br /&gt;Bom feeling...&lt;br /&gt;Bom feeling...&lt;br /&gt;Bom feeling...&lt;br /&gt;Bom feeling...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bom feeling para cantar!&lt;br /&gt;Bom feeling para curtir!&lt;br /&gt;Bom feeling para dançar!&lt;br /&gt;Bom feeling para nos fazer sorrir!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bom feeling...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Queres feeling, feeling, feeling?&lt;br /&gt;- Bom feeling cor-de-rosa, amarelo, azul, branco, de todas as cores...&lt;br /&gt;- Quantos é que queres? Rebuçados, doces?&lt;br /&gt;- Olhem o meu bom feeling, olhem o meu bom feeling! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bom feeling...&lt;br /&gt;Bom feeling...&lt;br /&gt;Bom feeling...&lt;br /&gt;- Bom feeling é a cor do amor, é a cor da paz...&lt;br /&gt;- É só abrir um sorriso, é só deixar passar.&lt;br /&gt;- Fui, com o vento!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-4065601388181761922?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/4065601388181761922/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/sara-tavares.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/4065601388181761922'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/4065601388181761922'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/sara-tavares.html' title='Sara Tavares'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-7758567487384857394</id><published>2009-06-06T01:20:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T01:39:35.484+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Tiago Bettencourt</title><content type='html'>"Canção simples"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Há qualquer coisa de leve na tua mão,&lt;br /&gt;Qualquer coisa que aquece o coração&lt;br /&gt;Há qualquer coisa quente quando estás,&lt;br /&gt;Qualquer coisa que prende e nos desfaz&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fazes muito mais que o sol&lt;br /&gt;Fazes muito mais que o sol&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A forma dos teus braços sobre os meus,&lt;br /&gt;O tempo dos meus olhos sobre os teus&lt;br /&gt;Desço nos teus ombros para provar&lt;br /&gt;Tudo o que pediste para levar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fazes muito mais que o sol&lt;br /&gt;Fazes muito mais que o sol&lt;br /&gt;Fazes muito mais que o sol&lt;br /&gt;Fazes muito mais...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tens os raios fortes a queimar&lt;br /&gt;Todo o gelo frio que construí&lt;br /&gt;Entras no meu sangue devagar&lt;br /&gt;E eu a transbordar dentro de ti&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tens os raios brancos como um rio,&lt;br /&gt;Sou quem sai do escuro para te ver,&lt;br /&gt;Tens os raios puros no luar,&lt;br /&gt;Sou quem grita fundo para te ter&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fazes muito mais que o sol&lt;br /&gt;Fazes muito mais que o sol&lt;br /&gt;Fazes muito mais que o sol&lt;br /&gt;Fazes muito mais...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quero ver as cores que tu vês&lt;br /&gt;Para saber a dança que tu és&lt;br /&gt;Quero ser do vento que te faz&lt;br /&gt;Quero ser do espaço onde estás&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deixa ser tão leve a tua mão,&lt;br /&gt;Para ser tão simples a canção&lt;br /&gt;Deixa ser das flores o respirar&lt;br /&gt;Para ser mais fácil te encontrar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fazes muito mais que o sol&lt;br /&gt;Fazes muito mais que o sol&lt;br /&gt;Fazes muito mais que o sol&lt;br /&gt;Fazes muito mais...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vem quebrar o medo, vem&lt;br /&gt;Saber se há depois&lt;br /&gt;E sentir que somos dois,&lt;br /&gt;Mas que juntos somos mais&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quero ser razão para seres maior&lt;br /&gt;Quero te oferecer o meu melhor&lt;br /&gt;Quero ser razão para seres maior&lt;br /&gt;Quero te oferecer o meu melhor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fazes muito mais que o sol&lt;br /&gt;Fazes muito mais que o sol&lt;br /&gt;Fazes muito mais que o sol&lt;br /&gt;Fazes muito mais que o sol&lt;br /&gt;Fazes muito mais que o sol"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-7758567487384857394?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/7758567487384857394/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/tiago-bettencourt.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/7758567487384857394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/7758567487384857394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/tiago-bettencourt.html' title='Tiago Bettencourt'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-1848145133615460906</id><published>2009-06-06T01:18:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T01:40:16.074+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>The Killers</title><content type='html'>"Read my mind"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"On the corner of main street&lt;br /&gt;Just tryin' to keep it in line&lt;br /&gt;You say you wanna move on and&lt;br /&gt;You say I'm falling behind&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can you read my mind?&lt;br /&gt;Can you read my mind?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never really gave up on&lt;br /&gt;Breakin' out of this two-star town&lt;br /&gt;I got the green light&lt;br /&gt;I got a little fight&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna turn this thing around&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can you read my mind?&lt;br /&gt;Can you read my mind?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The good old days&lt;br /&gt;The honest man&lt;br /&gt;The restless heart&lt;br /&gt;A promised land&lt;br /&gt;A subtle kiss&lt;br /&gt;That no one sees&lt;br /&gt;A broken wrist&lt;br /&gt;And the big trapeize&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well I don't mind&lt;br /&gt;If you don't mind&lt;br /&gt;'Cause I don't shine&lt;br /&gt;If you don't shine&lt;br /&gt;Before you go&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can you read my mind?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It`s funny how we just break down&lt;br /&gt;Waitin' on some sign&lt;br /&gt;I pull up to the front of your driveway&lt;br /&gt;With magic soakin' my spine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can you read my mind?&lt;br /&gt;Can you read my mind?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The teenage queen&lt;br /&gt;The loaded gun&lt;br /&gt;The drop-dead dream&lt;br /&gt;The Chosen One&lt;br /&gt;A southern drawl&lt;br /&gt;A world unseen&lt;br /&gt;A city wall&lt;br /&gt;And a trampoline&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well I don't mind&lt;br /&gt;If you don't mind&lt;br /&gt;Cause I don't shine&lt;br /&gt;If you don't shine&lt;br /&gt;Before you jump&lt;br /&gt;Tell me what you find&lt;br /&gt;When you read my mind&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Slippin in my faith&lt;br /&gt;Until I fall&lt;br /&gt;He never returned that call&lt;br /&gt;Woman, open the door&lt;br /&gt;Don't let it stay&lt;br /&gt;I wanna breed that fire again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She said&lt;br /&gt;I don't mind&lt;br /&gt;If you don't mind&lt;br /&gt;Cuz I don't shine&lt;br /&gt;If you don't shine&lt;br /&gt;Put your back on me&lt;br /&gt;Put your back on me&lt;br /&gt;Put your back on me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(ooooooo)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The stars are blazing&lt;br /&gt;Like rebel diamonds&lt;br /&gt;Cut out of the sun&lt;br /&gt;When you read my mind"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-1848145133615460906?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/1848145133615460906/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/killers.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/1848145133615460906'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/1848145133615460906'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/killers.html' title='The Killers'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-1901787416591108633</id><published>2009-06-04T22:15:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T00:41:41.557+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Jack Johnson</title><content type='html'>"Good people"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You win it’s your show now&lt;br /&gt;So what’s it going to be?&lt;br /&gt;Because people will tune in&lt;br /&gt;How many train wrecks do we need to see?&lt;br /&gt;Before we lose touch&lt;br /&gt;And we thought this was low&lt;br /&gt;Well it’s bad, getting worse….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where’d all the good people go?&lt;br /&gt;I’ve been changing channels and I don’t see them on the tv shows&lt;br /&gt;Where’d all the good people go?&lt;br /&gt;We’ve got heaps and heaps of what we sow&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They got this and that with a rattle a tat&lt;br /&gt;Testing, one, two, man whatcha gonna do&lt;br /&gt;Bad news misused, got too much to lose&lt;br /&gt;Give me some truth now, who’s side are we on&lt;br /&gt;Whatever you say&lt;br /&gt;Turn on the boob tube, I’m in the mood to obey&lt;br /&gt;So lead me astray&lt;br /&gt;And by the way now…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where’d all the good people go?&lt;br /&gt;I’ve been changing channels and I don’t see them on the tv shows&lt;br /&gt;Where’d all the good people go?&lt;br /&gt;We’ve got heaps and heaps of what we sow&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sitting around feeling far away&lt;br /&gt;So far away but I can feel the debris, can you feel it?&lt;br /&gt;You interrupt me from a friendly conversation&lt;br /&gt;To tell me how great it all is going to be&lt;br /&gt;You might notice some hesitation&lt;br /&gt;Because its important to you, it’s not important to me&lt;br /&gt;But way down by the edge of your reason&lt;br /&gt;It’s beginning to show and all I really wanna know is…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where’d all the good people go?&lt;br /&gt;I’ve been changing channels and I don’t see them on the tv shows&lt;br /&gt;Where’d all the good people go?&lt;br /&gt;We got heaps and heaps of what we sow&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They got this and that with a rattle a tat&lt;br /&gt;Testing one, two man whatcha gonna do&lt;br /&gt;Bad news misused give me some truth&lt;br /&gt;You got too much to lose&lt;br /&gt;Whose side are we on today, anyway&lt;br /&gt;Okay, whatever you say&lt;br /&gt;Wrong and resolute but in the mood to obey&lt;br /&gt;Station to station desensitizing the nation&lt;br /&gt;Going, going, gone"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-1901787416591108633?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/1901787416591108633/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/jack-johnson.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/1901787416591108633'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/1901787416591108633'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/jack-johnson.html' title='Jack Johnson'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-580820620081581499</id><published>2009-06-04T22:14:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T00:42:18.187+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Censurados</title><content type='html'>"Coxa"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Olhem para a coxa&lt;br /&gt;Todo o dia a saltar&lt;br /&gt;Será mesmo coxa&lt;br /&gt;Ou será que me estás a enganar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Olhem para a coxa (wooowooo)&lt;br /&gt;Que na verdade sabe andar (sabe andaaar)&lt;br /&gt;Olhem para a coxa&lt;br /&gt;Que não é nada tosca&lt;br /&gt;Olhem para a coxa sabe andar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Por esse mundo fora&lt;br /&gt;há sempre uma coxa&lt;br /&gt;que está sempre a dizer&lt;br /&gt;eu sou coxa tenho de viver&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Olhem para a coxa (wooowooo)&lt;br /&gt;Que na verdade sabe andar (sabe andaaar)&lt;br /&gt;Olhem para a coxa&lt;br /&gt;Que não é nada tosca&lt;br /&gt;Olhem para a coxa sabe andar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E aqui no nosso país&lt;br /&gt;O que não faltam são coxas&lt;br /&gt;Que estão sempre a saltar&lt;br /&gt;Depois do dia todo acabar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Olhem para a coxa (wooowooo)&lt;br /&gt;Que na verdade sabe andar (sabe andaaar)&lt;br /&gt;Olhem para a coxa&lt;br /&gt;Que não é nada tosca&lt;br /&gt;Olhem para a coxa sabe andar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Olhem para a coxa&lt;br /&gt;Todo o dia a saltar&lt;br /&gt;Será mesmo coxa&lt;br /&gt;Ou será que me estás a enganar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Olhem para a coxa (wooowooo)&lt;br /&gt;Que na verdade sabe andar (sabe andaaar)&lt;br /&gt;Olhem para a coxa&lt;br /&gt;Que não é nada tosca&lt;br /&gt;Olhem para a coxa sabe andar&lt;br /&gt;A coxa sabe andar, a coxa sabe andar, a coxa sabe andaaar..."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-580820620081581499?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/580820620081581499/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/censurados.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/580820620081581499'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/580820620081581499'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/censurados.html' title='Censurados'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-93113790624333232</id><published>2009-06-04T22:13:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T00:42:35.017+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Toranja</title><content type='html'>"Dá-me ar"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Dá-me ar&lt;br /&gt;Dá-me espaço para respirar&lt;br /&gt;Dá-me tempo para sofrer&lt;br /&gt;Quero alcoól para comer&lt;br /&gt;Quero um muro para espancar&lt;br /&gt;Até doer...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dá-me ar&lt;br /&gt;Quero vento para tentar&lt;br /&gt;Quero luz só para me ver&lt;br /&gt;Quero ferro para trincar&lt;br /&gt;Quero olhar de frente o sol&lt;br /&gt;Até queimar...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dá-me ar...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quero mais&lt;br /&gt;Quero um trono para perder&lt;br /&gt;Quero um quarto para gritar&lt;br /&gt;Quero gente para roer&lt;br /&gt;Quero um mundo para puxar&lt;br /&gt;Até morrer...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dá-me mais&lt;br /&gt;Quero terra para comer&lt;br /&gt;Quero Deuses para lutar&lt;br /&gt;que o mais fácil é perder&lt;br /&gt;que o difícil é pensar&lt;br /&gt;em acordar...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dá-me ar...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dou-te cor&lt;br /&gt;Dou-te vidas para cantar&lt;br /&gt;Dou-te raiva para dançar&lt;br /&gt;por cima do que é meu&lt;br /&gt;Dá-me ar."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-93113790624333232?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/93113790624333232/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/toranja_04.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/93113790624333232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/93113790624333232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/toranja_04.html' title='Toranja'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-3846778581929040017</id><published>2009-06-04T22:10:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T00:42:51.276+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Toranja</title><content type='html'>"Carta"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Não falei contigo&lt;br /&gt;Com medo que os montes e vales que me achas&lt;br /&gt;Caíssem a teus pés...&lt;br /&gt;Acredito e entendo&lt;br /&gt;Que a estabilidade lógica&lt;br /&gt;De quem não quer explodir&lt;br /&gt;Faça bem ao escudo que és...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saudade é o ar&lt;br /&gt;Que vou sugando e aceitando&lt;br /&gt;Como fruto de verão&lt;br /&gt;Nos jardins do teu beijo...&lt;br /&gt;Mas sinto que sabes que sentes também&lt;br /&gt;Que num dia maior serás trapézio sem rede&lt;br /&gt;A pairar sobre o mundo&lt;br /&gt;Em tudo o que vejo...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;É que hoje acordei e lembrei-me&lt;br /&gt;Que sou mago feiticeiro&lt;br /&gt;Que a minha bola de cristal é folha de papel&lt;br /&gt;Nela te pinto nua, nua&lt;br /&gt;Numa chama minha e tua.&lt;br /&gt;Numa chama minha e tua&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Desconfio que ainda não reparaste&lt;br /&gt;Que o teu destino foi inventado&lt;br /&gt;Por gira-discos estragados&lt;br /&gt;Aos quais te vais moldando...&lt;br /&gt;E todo o teu planeamento estratégico&lt;br /&gt;De sincronização do coração&lt;br /&gt;São leis como paredes e tectos&lt;br /&gt;Cujos vidros vais pisando...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anseio o dia em que acordares&lt;br /&gt;Por cima de todos os teus números&lt;br /&gt;Raízes quadradas de somas subtraídas&lt;br /&gt;Sempre com a mesma solução...&lt;br /&gt;Podias deixar de fazer da vida&lt;br /&gt;Um ciclo vicioso&lt;br /&gt;Harmonioso ao teu gesto mimado&lt;br /&gt;E à palma da tua mão...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;É que hoje acordei e lembrei-me&lt;br /&gt;Que sou mago feiticeiro&lt;br /&gt;Que a minha bola de cristal é folha de papel&lt;br /&gt;Nela te pinto nua, nua&lt;br /&gt;Numa chama minha e tua.&lt;br /&gt;Numa chama minha e tua.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Desculpa se te fiz fogo e noite&lt;br /&gt;Sem pedir autorização por escrito&lt;br /&gt;Ao sindicato dos deuses...&lt;br /&gt;Mas não fui eu que te escolhi.&lt;br /&gt;Desculpa se te usei&lt;br /&gt;Como refúgio dos meus sentidos&lt;br /&gt;Pedaço de silêncios perdidos&lt;br /&gt;Que voltei a encontrar em ti...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;É que hoje acordei e lembrei-me&lt;br /&gt;Que sou mago feiticeiro...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...nela te pinto nua, nua&lt;br /&gt;Numa chama minha e tua.&lt;br /&gt;Numa chama minha e tua.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ainda magoas alguém&lt;br /&gt;O tiro passou-me ao lado&lt;br /&gt;Ainda magoas alguém...&lt;br /&gt;Se não te deste a ninguém&lt;br /&gt;Magoaste alguém&lt;br /&gt;A mim... passou-me ao lado.&lt;br /&gt;A mim... passou-me ao lado."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-3846778581929040017?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/3846778581929040017/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/toranja.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/3846778581929040017'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/3846778581929040017'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/toranja.html' title='Toranja'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-7558446741709424735</id><published>2009-06-04T01:25:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T00:43:05.243+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Queen</title><content type='html'>"Somebody to love"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Can anybody find me somebody to love?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each morning I get up I die a little&lt;br /&gt;Can barely stand on my feet&lt;br /&gt;(Take a look at yourself)Take a look in the mirror and cry&lt;br /&gt;Lord what you're doing to me&lt;br /&gt;I have to spend all my years in believing you&lt;br /&gt;But I just can't get no relief Lord&lt;br /&gt;Somebody (somebody) ooh somebody (somebody)&lt;br /&gt;Can anybody find me somebody to love?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I work hard (he works hard) everyday of my life&lt;br /&gt;I work till I ache my bones&lt;br /&gt;At the end (at the end of the day)&lt;br /&gt;I take home my hard earned pay all on my own&lt;br /&gt;I get down (down) on my knees (knees)&lt;br /&gt;And I start to pray (praise the Lord)&lt;br /&gt;'Til the tears run down from my eyes&lt;br /&gt;Lord somebody (somebody) ooh somebody (please)&lt;br /&gt;Can anybody find me somebody to love?&lt;br /&gt;(He wants help)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every day - I try and I try and I try -&lt;br /&gt;But everybody wants to put me down&lt;br /&gt;They say I'm goin' crazy&lt;br /&gt;They say I got a lot of water in my brain&lt;br /&gt;Got no common sense&lt;br /&gt;I got nobody left to believe&lt;br /&gt;Yeah - yeah yeah yeah&lt;br /&gt;Ooh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somebody (somebody)&lt;br /&gt;Can anybody find me somebody to love?&lt;br /&gt;(Anybody find me someone to love)&lt;br /&gt;Got no feel I got no rhythm&lt;br /&gt;I just keep losing my beat (you just keep losing and losing)&lt;br /&gt;I'm OK I'm alright (he's alright)&lt;br /&gt;I ain't gonna face no defeat&lt;br /&gt;I just gotta get out of this prison cell&lt;br /&gt;Some day I'm gonna be free Lord&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Find me somebody to love find me somebody to love&lt;br /&gt;Find me somebody to love find me somebody to love&lt;br /&gt;Find me somebody to love find me somebody to love&lt;br /&gt;Find me somebody to love find me somebody to love&lt;br /&gt;Find me somebody to love find me somebody to love&lt;br /&gt;Somebody somebody somebody somebody somebody&lt;br /&gt;Find me somebody find me somebody to love&lt;br /&gt;Can anybody find me somebody to love&lt;br /&gt;Find me somebody to love&lt;br /&gt;Find me somebody to love&lt;br /&gt;Find me somebody to love&lt;br /&gt;Find me find me find me&lt;br /&gt;Find me somebody to love&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somebody to love&lt;br /&gt;Find me somebody to love..."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-7558446741709424735?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/7558446741709424735/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/queen_04.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/7558446741709424735'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/7558446741709424735'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/queen_04.html' title='Queen'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-2726142718593920504</id><published>2009-06-04T01:23:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T00:43:18.164+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Queen</title><content type='html'>"Bohemian Rhapsody"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Is this the real life?&lt;br /&gt;Is this just fantasy?&lt;br /&gt;Caught in a landslide&lt;br /&gt;No escape from reality&lt;br /&gt;Open your eyes&lt;br /&gt;Look up to the skies and see&lt;br /&gt;I'm just a poor boy,&lt;br /&gt;I need no sympathy&lt;br /&gt;Because i'm easy come, easy go&lt;br /&gt;A little high, little low&lt;br /&gt;Anyway the wind blows,&lt;br /&gt;Doesn't really matter to me, to me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mama, just killed a man&lt;br /&gt;Put a gun against his head&lt;br /&gt;Pulled my trigger, now he's dead&lt;br /&gt;Mama, life had just begun&lt;br /&gt;But now i've gone and thrown it all away&lt;br /&gt;Mama, ooo&lt;br /&gt;Didn't mean to make you cry&lt;br /&gt;If i'm not back again this time tomorrow&lt;br /&gt;Carry on, carry on,&lt;br /&gt;As if nothing really matters&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Too late, my time has come&lt;br /&gt;Sends shivers down my spine&lt;br /&gt;Body's aching all the time&lt;br /&gt;Goodbye everybody - i've got to go&lt;br /&gt;Gotta leave you all behind&lt;br /&gt;And face the truth&lt;br /&gt;Mama, ooo - i don't want to die&lt;br /&gt;I sometimes wish i'd never been born at all&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I see a little silhouetto of a man&lt;br /&gt;Scaramouch, scaramouch will you do the fandango&lt;br /&gt;Thunderbolt and lightning - very very frightening me&lt;br /&gt;Gallileo, gallileo,&lt;br /&gt;Gallileo, gallileo,&lt;br /&gt;Gallileo figaro - magnifico&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But i'm just a poor boy, nobody loves me&lt;br /&gt;He's just a poor boy from a poor family&lt;br /&gt;Spare him his life from this monstrosity&lt;br /&gt;Easy come easy go - will you let me go&lt;br /&gt;Bismillah! no - we will not let you go -&lt;br /&gt;Let him go&lt;br /&gt;Bismillah! we will not let you go - let him go&lt;br /&gt;Bismillah! we will not let you go - let me go&lt;br /&gt;Will not let you go - let me go (never)&lt;br /&gt;Never let you go - let me go&lt;br /&gt;Never let me go - ooo&lt;br /&gt;No, no, no, no, no, no, no -&lt;br /&gt;Oh mama mia, mama mia, mama mia let me go&lt;br /&gt;Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me&lt;br /&gt;For me&lt;br /&gt;For me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So you think&lt;br /&gt;You can stop me and split in my eye&lt;br /&gt;So you think you can love me&lt;br /&gt;And leave me to die&lt;br /&gt;Oh baby - can't do this to me baby&lt;br /&gt;Just gotta get out -&lt;br /&gt;Just gotta get right outta here&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ooh yeah, ooh yeah&lt;br /&gt;Nothing really matters&lt;br /&gt;Anyone can see&lt;br /&gt;Nothing really matters -&lt;br /&gt;Nothing really matters to me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway the wind blows..."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-2726142718593920504?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/2726142718593920504/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/queen.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/2726142718593920504'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/2726142718593920504'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/queen.html' title='Queen'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-9112133491218204296</id><published>2009-06-04T01:22:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T00:43:32.466+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Pink Floyd</title><content type='html'>"Wish you were here"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So,&lt;br /&gt;So you think you can tell&lt;br /&gt;Heaven from Hell,&lt;br /&gt;Blue skies from pain&lt;br /&gt;Can you tell a green field&lt;br /&gt;From a cold steel rail?&lt;br /&gt;A smile from a veil?&lt;br /&gt;Do you think you can tell?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did they get you to trade&lt;br /&gt;Your heroes for ghosts?&lt;br /&gt;Hot ashes for trees?&lt;br /&gt;Hot air for a cool breeze?&lt;br /&gt;Cold confort for change?&lt;br /&gt;Did you exchange&lt;br /&gt;A walk on part in the war&lt;br /&gt;For a lead role in a cage?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How I wish, how I wish you were here&lt;br /&gt;We're just two lost souls&lt;br /&gt;Swimming in a fish bowl,&lt;br /&gt;Year after year,&lt;br /&gt;Running over the same old ground.&lt;br /&gt;What have we found?&lt;br /&gt;The same old fears&lt;br /&gt;Wish you were here"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-9112133491218204296?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/9112133491218204296/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/pink-floyd.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/9112133491218204296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/9112133491218204296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/pink-floyd.html' title='Pink Floyd'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-3941748894687693773</id><published>2009-06-02T21:57:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T00:43:47.414+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>José Cid</title><content type='html'>"Minha música"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Música, eu nasci prá música&lt;br /&gt;Para te ver sorrir e a sonhar&lt;br /&gt;E se escutares com atenção&lt;br /&gt;Tens o bater do coração&lt;br /&gt;Na minha música&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recordo-me hoje vagamente&lt;br /&gt;De quando era criança&lt;br /&gt;Vivia numa vila linda à beira Tejo&lt;br /&gt;Tinha uma namorada loira&lt;br /&gt;E os amigos da escola&lt;br /&gt;Sexta-Feira Santa ia no cortejo&lt;br /&gt;E o meu pai dizia filho quando fores maior&lt;br /&gt;Tens que ser um engenheiro ou Doutor&lt;br /&gt;Qual Doutor dizia eu&lt;br /&gt;Que mau Doutor seria&lt;br /&gt;Quero é cantar numa telefonia&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Música, eu nasci prá música&lt;br /&gt;Para te ver sorrir e a sonhar&lt;br /&gt;E se escutares com atenção&lt;br /&gt;Tens o bater do coração&lt;br /&gt;Na minha música&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quando entrei para o liceu&lt;br /&gt;Comecei a tocar&lt;br /&gt;O Jazz, a Bossanova, o Blues e o Rock and Roll&lt;br /&gt;O Antônio, o Marco e Michael&lt;br /&gt;Eram os mil cento e onze&lt;br /&gt;Os Beatles, Elton John, Bob Dylan e os Rolling Stones&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E o meu pai dizia filho&lt;br /&gt;Tens que uar gravata&lt;br /&gt;Vê mas é se ganhas tino e juizinho&lt;br /&gt;De blusão e de Blue Jeans igual a James Dean&lt;br /&gt;Já mordia cá por dentro esse bichinho&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Música, eu nasci pÂ’rá música&lt;br /&gt;Para te ver sorrir e a sonhar&lt;br /&gt;E se escutares com atenção&lt;br /&gt;Tens o bater do coração&lt;br /&gt;Na minha música&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Música, eu nasci prá música&lt;br /&gt;Para te ver sorrir e a sonhar&lt;br /&gt;E se escutares com atenção&lt;br /&gt;Tens o bater do coração&lt;br /&gt;Na minha música&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Na minha musi&lt;br /&gt;Minha musi&lt;br /&gt;Minha música"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-3941748894687693773?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/3941748894687693773/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/jose-cid.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/3941748894687693773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/3941748894687693773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/jose-cid.html' title='José Cid'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-948648684128442003</id><published>2009-06-02T21:55:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T00:44:00.261+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>José Mário Branco</title><content type='html'>"Mudam-se os tempos, mudam-se as vontades"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mudam-se os tempos, mudam-se as vontades,&lt;br /&gt;Muda-se o ser, muda-se a confiança;&lt;br /&gt;Todo o mundo é composto de mudança,&lt;br /&gt;Tomando sempre novas qualidades. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Continuamente vemos novidades,&lt;br /&gt;Diferentes em tudo da esperança;&lt;br /&gt;Do mal ficam as mágoas na lembrança,&lt;br /&gt;E do bem, se algum houve, as saudades. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O tempo cobre o chão de verde manto,&lt;br /&gt;Que já coberto foi de neve fria,&lt;br /&gt;E em mim converte em choro o doce canto. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E, afora este mudar-se cada dia,&lt;br /&gt;Outra mudança faz de mor espanto,&lt;br /&gt;Que não se muda já como soía."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-948648684128442003?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/948648684128442003/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/jose-mario-branco_5934.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/948648684128442003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/948648684128442003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/jose-mario-branco_5934.html' title='José Mário Branco'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-391592263270978972</id><published>2009-06-02T21:53:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T00:44:14.761+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>José Mário Branco</title><content type='html'>"Queixa das almas jovens abandonadas"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Dão-nos um lírio e um canivete&lt;br /&gt;E uma alma para ir à escola&lt;br /&gt;Mais um letreiro que promete&lt;br /&gt;Raízes, hastes e corola&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dão-nos um mapa imaginário&lt;br /&gt;Que tem a forma de uma cidade&lt;br /&gt;Mais um relógio e um calendário&lt;br /&gt;Onde não vem a nossa idade&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dão-nos a honra de manequim&lt;br /&gt;Para dar corda à nossa ausência.&lt;br /&gt;Dão-nos um prémio de ser assim&lt;br /&gt;Sem pecado e sem inocência&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dão-nos um barco e um chapéu&lt;br /&gt;Para tirarmos o retrato&lt;br /&gt;Dão-nos bilhetes para o céu&lt;br /&gt;Levado à cena num teatro&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Penteiam-nos os crâneos ermos&lt;br /&gt;Com as cabeleiras das avós&lt;br /&gt;Para jamais nos parecermos&lt;br /&gt;Connosco quando estamos sós&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dão-nos um bolo que é a história&lt;br /&gt;Da nossa historia sem enredo&lt;br /&gt;E não nos soa na memória&lt;br /&gt;Outra palavra que o medo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Temos fantasmas tão educados&lt;br /&gt;Que adormecemos no seu ombro&lt;br /&gt;Somos vazios despovoados&lt;br /&gt;De personagens de assombro&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dão-nos a capa do evangelho&lt;br /&gt;E um pacote de tabaco&lt;br /&gt;Dão-nos um pente e um espelho&lt;br /&gt;Pra pentearmos um macaco&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dão-nos um cravo preso à cabeça&lt;br /&gt;E uma cabeça presa à cintura&lt;br /&gt;Para que o corpo não pareça&lt;br /&gt;A forma da alma que o procura&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dão-nos um esquife feito de ferro&lt;br /&gt;Com embutidos de diamante&lt;br /&gt;Para organizar já o enterro&lt;br /&gt;Do nosso corpo mais adiante&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dão-nos um nome e um jornal&lt;br /&gt;Um avião e um violino&lt;br /&gt;Mas não nos dão o animal&lt;br /&gt;Que espeta os cornos no destino&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dão-nos marujos de papelão&lt;br /&gt;Com carimbo no passaporte&lt;br /&gt;Por isso a nossa dimensão&lt;br /&gt;Não é a vida, nem é a morte"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-391592263270978972?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/391592263270978972/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/jose-mario-branco_02.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/391592263270978972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/391592263270978972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/jose-mario-branco_02.html' title='José Mário Branco'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-9109200399518477907</id><published>2009-06-02T21:47:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T00:44:29.666+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>José Mário Branco</title><content type='html'>"Eu vim de longe"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Quando o avião aqui chegou&lt;br /&gt;Quando o mês de maio começou&lt;br /&gt;Eu olhei para ti&lt;br /&gt;Então entendi&lt;br /&gt;Foi um sonho mau que já passou&lt;br /&gt;Foi um mau bocado que acabou&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tinha esta viola numa mão&lt;br /&gt;Uma flor vermelha na outra mão&lt;br /&gt;Tinha um grande amor&lt;br /&gt;Marcado pela dor&lt;br /&gt;E quando a fronteira me abraçou&lt;br /&gt;Foi esta bagagem que encontrou&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu vim de longe&lt;br /&gt;De muito longe&lt;br /&gt;O que eu andei pra aqui chegar&lt;br /&gt;Eu vou pra longe&lt;br /&gt;Pra muito longe&lt;br /&gt;Onde nos vamos encontrar&lt;br /&gt;Com o que temos pra nos dar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E então olhei à minha volta&lt;br /&gt;Vi tanta esperança andar à solta&lt;br /&gt;Que não hesitei&lt;br /&gt;E os hinos cantei&lt;br /&gt;Foram feitos do meu coração&lt;br /&gt;Feitos de alegria e de paixão&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quando a nossa festa se estragou&lt;br /&gt;E o mês de Novembro se vingou&lt;br /&gt;Eu olhei pra ti&lt;br /&gt;E então entendi&lt;br /&gt;Foi um sonho lindo que acabou&lt;br /&gt;Houve aqui alguém que se enganou&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tinha esta viola numa mão&lt;br /&gt;Coisas começadas noutra mão&lt;br /&gt;Tinha um grande amor&lt;br /&gt;Marcado pela dor&lt;br /&gt;E quando a espingarda se virou&lt;br /&gt;Foi pra esta força que apontou&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E então olhei à minha volta&lt;br /&gt;Vi tanta mentira andar à solta&lt;br /&gt;Que me perguntei&lt;br /&gt;Se os hinos que cantei&lt;br /&gt;Eram só promessas e ilusões&lt;br /&gt;Que nunca passaram de canções&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu vim de longe&lt;br /&gt;De muito longe&lt;br /&gt;O que eu andei pra aqui chegar&lt;br /&gt;Eu vou pra longe&lt;br /&gt;P´ra muito longe&lt;br /&gt;Onde nos vamos encontrar&lt;br /&gt;Com o que temos pra nos dar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quando eu finalmente eu quis saber&lt;br /&gt;Se ainda vale a pena tanto crer&lt;br /&gt;Eu olhei para ti&lt;br /&gt;Então eu entendi&lt;br /&gt;É um lindo sonho para viver&lt;br /&gt;Quando toda a gente assim quiser&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tenho esta viola numa mão&lt;br /&gt;Tenho a minha vida noutra mão&lt;br /&gt;Tenho um grande amor&lt;br /&gt;Marcado pela dor&lt;br /&gt;E sempre que Abril aqui passar&lt;br /&gt;Dou-lhe este farnel para o ajudar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu vim de longe&lt;br /&gt;De muito longe&lt;br /&gt;O que eu andei pra aqui chegar&lt;br /&gt;Eu vou p´ra longe&lt;br /&gt;P´ra muito longe&lt;br /&gt;Onde nos vamos encontrar&lt;br /&gt;Com o que temos pra nos dar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E agora eu olho à minha volta&lt;br /&gt;Vejo tanta raiva andar a solta&lt;br /&gt;Que já não hesito&lt;br /&gt;Os hinos que repito&lt;br /&gt;São a parte que eu posso prever&lt;br /&gt;Do que a minha gente vai fazer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu vim de longe&lt;br /&gt;De muito longe&lt;br /&gt;O que eu andei prá aqui chegar&lt;br /&gt;Eu vou pra longe&lt;br /&gt;P´ra muito longe&lt;br /&gt;Onde nos vamos encontrar&lt;br /&gt;Com o que temos pra nos dar"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-9109200399518477907?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/9109200399518477907/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/jose-mario-branco.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/9109200399518477907'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/9109200399518477907'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/06/jose-mario-branco.html' title='José Mário Branco'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-5605266423212729579</id><published>2009-05-28T01:06:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T00:44:47.441+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vídeos'/><title type='text'>Marinho Pinto vs Manuela Moura Guedes</title><content type='html'>interrompo o 'mês da música' (que, aliás, irá passar a dois meses da música) para mostrar este vídeo, que se passou na passada sexta-feira, no jornal da noite da tvi. Apresentado pela Manuela Moura Guedes, teve como convidado o Bastonário da Ordem dos Advogados Marinho Pinto, como irão reparar quando virem o vídeo, a 'dona' nem se soube onde meter! E assim é que é!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-692d2d7ceeec224b" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v13.nonxt2.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D692d2d7ceeec224b%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331882348%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D48E8D4CC0CA9EBD6700D5693D0D2DCEF6E232850.79FB1C00AE891E6AE7475A8DA455716129F5E870%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D692d2d7ceeec224b%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DFj1bU0QZkVUaDC32cEwNr4PA3Zk&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v13.nonxt2.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D692d2d7ceeec224b%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331882348%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D48E8D4CC0CA9EBD6700D5693D0D2DCEF6E232850.79FB1C00AE891E6AE7475A8DA455716129F5E870%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D692d2d7ceeec224b%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DFj1bU0QZkVUaDC32cEwNr4PA3Zk&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-5605266423212729579?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=692d2d7ceeec224b&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/5605266423212729579/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/marinho-pinto-vs-manuela-moura-guedes.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/5605266423212729579'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/5605266423212729579'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/marinho-pinto-vs-manuela-moura-guedes.html' title='Marinho Pinto vs Manuela Moura Guedes'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-9146859846717812546</id><published>2009-05-28T00:24:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T00:45:18.987+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Fernando Tordo</title><content type='html'>"Tourada"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Não importa sol ou sombra &lt;br /&gt;camarotes ou barreiras &lt;br /&gt;toureamos ombro a ombro &lt;br /&gt;as feras. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ninguém nos leva ao engano &lt;br /&gt;toureamos mano a mano &lt;br /&gt;só nos podem causar dano &lt;br /&gt;espera. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Entram guizos chocas e capotes &lt;br /&gt;e mantilhas pretas &lt;br /&gt;entram espadas chifres e derrotes &lt;br /&gt;e alguns poetas &lt;br /&gt;entram bravos cravos e dichotes &lt;br /&gt;porque tudo o mais &lt;br /&gt;são tretas. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Entram vacas depois dos forcados &lt;br /&gt;que não pegam nada. &lt;br /&gt;Soam brados e olés dos nabos &lt;br /&gt;que não pagam nada &lt;br /&gt;e só ficam os peões de brega &lt;br /&gt;cuja profissão &lt;br /&gt;não pega. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Com bandarilhas de esperança &lt;br /&gt;afugentamos a fera &lt;br /&gt;estamos na praça &lt;br /&gt;da Primavera. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nós vamos pegar o mundo &lt;br /&gt;pelos cornos da desgraça &lt;br /&gt;e fazermos da tristeza &lt;br /&gt;graça. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Entram velhas doidas e turistas &lt;br /&gt;entram excursões &lt;br /&gt;entram benefícios e cronistas &lt;br /&gt;entram aldrabões &lt;br /&gt;entram marialvas e coristas &lt;br /&gt;entram galifões &lt;br /&gt;de crista. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Entram cavaleiros à garupa &lt;br /&gt;do seu heroísmo &lt;br /&gt;entra aquela música maluca &lt;br /&gt;do passodoblismo &lt;br /&gt;entra a aficionada e a caduca &lt;br /&gt;mais o snobismo &lt;br /&gt;e cismo... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Entram empresários moralistas &lt;br /&gt;entram frustrações &lt;br /&gt;entram antiquários e fadistas &lt;br /&gt;e contradições &lt;br /&gt;e entra muito dólar muita gente &lt;br /&gt;que dá lucro as milhões. &lt;br /&gt;E diz o inteligente &lt;br /&gt;que acabaram asa canções."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-9146859846717812546?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/9146859846717812546/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/fernando-tordo.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/9146859846717812546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/9146859846717812546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/fernando-tordo.html' title='Fernando Tordo'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-3977269906272032777</id><published>2009-05-28T00:24:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T00:45:03.637+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>José Mário Branco (sim existem coincidências nos nomes =p)</title><content type='html'>"Casa comigo Marta"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Chamava-se ela Marta &lt;br /&gt;Ele Doutor Dom Gaspar &lt;br /&gt;Ela pobre e gaiata &lt;br /&gt;Ele rico e tutelar &lt;br /&gt;Gaspar tinha por Marta uma paixão sem par &lt;br /&gt;Mas Marta estava farta mais que farta de o aturar &lt;br /&gt;- Casa comigo Marta &lt;br /&gt;Que estou morto por casar &lt;br /&gt;- Casar contigo, não maganão &lt;br /&gt;Não te metas comigo, deixa-me da mão &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Casa comigo Marta &lt;br /&gt;Tenho roupa a passajar &lt;br /&gt;Tenho talheres de prata &lt;br /&gt;Que estão todos por lavar &lt;br /&gt;Tenho um faisão no forno e não sei cozinhar &lt;br /&gt;Camisas, camisolas, lenços, fatos por passar &lt;br /&gt;- Casa comigo Marta &lt;br /&gt;Tenho roupa a passajar &lt;br /&gt;- Casar contigo, não maganão &lt;br /&gt;Não te metas comigo deixa-me da mão &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Casa comigo Marta &lt;br /&gt;Tenho acções e rendimentos &lt;br /&gt;Tenho uma cama larga &lt;br /&gt;Num dos meus apartamentos &lt;br /&gt;Tenho ouro na Suíça e padrinhos aos centos &lt;br /&gt;Empresto e hipoteco e transacciono investimentos &lt;br /&gt;- Casa comigo Marta &lt;br /&gt;Tenho acções e rendimentos &lt;br /&gt;- Casar contigo, não maganão &lt;br /&gt;Não te metas comigo deixa-me da mão &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Casa comigo Marta &lt;br /&gt;Tenho rédeas p´ra mandar &lt;br /&gt;Tenho gente que trata &lt;br /&gt;De me fazer respeitar &lt;br /&gt;Tenho meios de sobra p´ra te nomear &lt;br /&gt;Rainha dos pacóvios de aquém e além mar &lt;br /&gt;- Casas comigo Marta &lt;br /&gt;Que eu obrigo-te a casar &lt;br /&gt;- Casar contigo, não maganão &lt;br /&gt;Só me levas contigo dentro de um caixão"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-3977269906272032777?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/3977269906272032777/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/jose-mario-branco-sim-existem.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/3977269906272032777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/3977269906272032777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/jose-mario-branco-sim-existem.html' title='José Mário Branco (sim existem coincidências nos nomes =p)'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-297899993521766809</id><published>2009-05-28T00:23:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T00:45:33.997+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Carlos Paião (e mais outra =p)</title><content type='html'>"Vinho do Porto"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Primeiro a serra semeada terra a terra &lt;br /&gt;Nas vertentes da promessa &lt;br /&gt;Nas vertentes da promessa &lt;br /&gt;Depois o verde que se ganha ou que se perde &lt;br /&gt;Quando a chuva cai depressa &lt;br /&gt;Quando a chuva cai depressa&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E nasce o fruto quantas vezes diminuto &lt;br /&gt;Como as uvas da alegria &lt;br /&gt;Como as uvas da alegria&lt;br /&gt;E na vindima vão as cestas até cima &lt;br /&gt;Com o pão de cada dia &lt;br /&gt;Com o pão de cada dia &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suor do rosto pra pisar e ver o mosto &lt;br /&gt;Nos lagares do bom caminho &lt;br /&gt;Nos lagares do bom caminho &lt;br /&gt;Assim cuidado faz-se o sonho e fermentado &lt;br /&gt;Generoso como o vinho &lt;br /&gt;Generoso como o vinho &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E pelo rio vai dourado o nosso brio &lt;br /&gt;Nos rabelos duma vida &lt;br /&gt;Nos rabelos duma vida &lt;br /&gt;E para o mundo vão garrafas cá do fundo &lt;br /&gt;De uma gente envaidecida &lt;br /&gt;De uma gente envaidecida &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vinho do Porto &lt;br /&gt;Vinho de Portugal &lt;br /&gt;E vai à nossa &lt;br /&gt;À nossa beira mar &lt;br /&gt;À beira Porto &lt;br /&gt;À vinho Porto mar &lt;br /&gt;Há-de haver Porto &lt;br /&gt;Para o nosso mar &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vinho do Porto&lt;br /&gt;Vinho de Portugal &lt;br /&gt;E vai à nossa &lt;br /&gt;À nossa beira mar &lt;br /&gt;À beira Porto &lt;br /&gt;À vinho Porto mar &lt;br /&gt;Há-de haver Porto &lt;br /&gt;Para o desconforto &lt;br /&gt;Para o que anda torto &lt;br /&gt;Neste navegar &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Por isso há festa não há gente como esta &lt;br /&gt;Quando a vida nos empresta uns foguetes de ilusão &lt;br /&gt;Vem a fanfarra e os míudos, a algazarra &lt;br /&gt;Vai-se o povo que se agarra pra passar a procissão &lt;br /&gt;E são atletas, corredores de bicicletas &lt;br /&gt;E palavras indiscretas na boca de algum rapaz &lt;br /&gt;E as barracas mais os cortes nas casacas &lt;br /&gt;Os conjuntos, as ressacas e outro brinde que se faz &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vinho do Porto vou servi-lo neste cálice &lt;br /&gt;Alicerce da amizade em Portugal &lt;br /&gt;É o conforto de um amor tomado aos tragos &lt;br /&gt;Que trazemos por vontade em Portugal &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Se nós quisermos entornar a pequenez &lt;br /&gt;Se nós soubermos ser amigos desta vez &lt;br /&gt;Não há champanhe que nos ganhe &lt;br /&gt;Nem ninguém que nos apanhe &lt;br /&gt;Porque o vinho é português"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-297899993521766809?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/297899993521766809/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/carlos-paiao-e-mais-outra-p.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/297899993521766809'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/297899993521766809'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/carlos-paiao-e-mais-outra-p.html' title='Carlos Paião (e mais outra =p)'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-1727017024810782588</id><published>2009-05-28T00:22:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T00:45:51.207+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Carlos Paião</title><content type='html'>"Pó de arroz"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Pó de Arroz,&lt;br /&gt;Na face das pequenas&lt;br /&gt;Será beleza apenas, só&lt;br /&gt;Uma corzinha com&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pó de arroz&lt;br /&gt;Rosa é, mulher o pôs&lt;br /&gt;E o homem vai nas cenas&lt;br /&gt;É feia da outra vez&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;É como enfeitar um embrulho&lt;br /&gt;Arroz com gorgulho talvez&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Refrão) &lt;br /&gt;Pó de arroz&lt;br /&gt;Do teu arrozal&lt;br /&gt;Esse pó que é fatal&lt;br /&gt;És a tal que me encanta com&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pó de Arroz&lt;br /&gt;Não faz nenhum mal&lt;br /&gt;É de arroz integral&lt;br /&gt;Infernal, quando chegas com&lt;br /&gt;Todo o teu arroz (bis)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pó de Arroz&lt;br /&gt;Tens hoje só pra mim&lt;br /&gt;Pós de perlimpimpim&lt;br /&gt;És um arroz doce sim&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pode ser&lt;br /&gt;Um canto de sereia&lt;br /&gt;Serei a tua teia&lt;br /&gt;E tu serás meu algoz&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mas quando te vais alindar&lt;br /&gt;Alindada vens dar no arroz"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-1727017024810782588?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/1727017024810782588/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/carlos-paiao.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/1727017024810782588'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/1727017024810782588'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/carlos-paiao.html' title='Carlos Paião'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-3052170105305577513</id><published>2009-05-27T00:11:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T00:46:06.261+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Carlos Paião (esta é mais para divertir =P )</title><content type='html'>"A canção do beijinho"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ai rapariga, rapariga, rapariga&lt;br /&gt;Que só dizes disparates, disparates, disparates&lt;br /&gt;E tanta asneira, tanta asneira, tanta asneira&lt;br /&gt;Que para tirar tanta asneira não chegam 100 alicates&lt;br /&gt;Mas tu não sabes, tu não sabes, tu não sabes&lt;br /&gt;Que isso de dar um beijinho já é um custume antigo&lt;br /&gt;Quem te disse, quem te disse, quem te disse&lt;br /&gt;Que lá por dares um beijinho tinhas de casar comigo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Ó chega cá.&lt;br /&gt;- Não vou.&lt;br /&gt;- Tu és tão linda.&lt;br /&gt;- Pois sou.&lt;br /&gt;- Dá-me um beijinho.&lt;br /&gt;- Não dou.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Interesseirea, convencida, ignorante, foragida, sua burra,&lt;br /&gt;És a miúda mais palerma, camelóide que eu já vi&lt;br /&gt;Mas porque raio é que tu queres os beijinhos s´para ti.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ora dá cá um e a seguir dá outro&lt;br /&gt;Depois dá mais um que só dois é pouco &lt;br /&gt;Ai eu gosto tanto e é tão docinho&lt;br /&gt;E no entretanto dá mais um beijinho.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ora dá cá um e a seguir dá outro&lt;br /&gt;Depois dá mais um que só dois é pouco &lt;br /&gt;Ai eu gosto tanto e é tão docinho&lt;br /&gt;E no entretanto dá mais um beijinho.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ai rapariga, rapariga, rapariga&lt;br /&gt;Dás-me cabo do miolo para te levar com cantigas&lt;br /&gt;Ai mas que coisa, mas que coisa, mas que coisa&lt;br /&gt;Diz lá porque é que tu não és como as outras raparigas&lt;br /&gt;Quando eu pergunto se elas me dão um beijinho&lt;br /&gt;Dão- me tantos, tantos, tantos que parecem não ter fim&lt;br /&gt;E tu agora estás com tanta esquisitice&lt;br /&gt;Que qualquer dia já queres e não sabes mais de mim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Dás ou não dás?&lt;br /&gt;- Não, não.&lt;br /&gt;- Então dou eu.&lt;br /&gt;- Isso não&lt;br /&gt;- Dá-me um beijinho.&lt;br /&gt;- Não dou não.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Diz lá porquê, sua esganada, egoísta, mal-criada&lt;br /&gt;Sua parva, só se pensas que eu acaso tenho a barba mal cortada&lt;br /&gt;E vê lá se tens receio que a boca fique arranhada.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ora dá cá um e a seguir dá outro&lt;br /&gt;Depois dá mais um que só dois é pouco &lt;br /&gt;Ai eu gosto tanto e é tão docinho&lt;br /&gt;E no entretanto dá mais um beijinho.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ora dá cá um e a seguir dá outro&lt;br /&gt;Depois dá mais um que só dois é pouco &lt;br /&gt;Ai eu gosto tanto e é tão docinho&lt;br /&gt;E no entretanto dá mais um beijinho.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Então vá lá.&lt;br /&gt;- Já disse.&lt;br /&gt;- Eu faço força.&lt;br /&gt;- Que parvoíce&lt;br /&gt;- Dá-me um beijinho.&lt;br /&gt;- Que chatice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Analfarruta, pestilenta, hipocondriaca, avarenta, bexigosa&lt;br /&gt;Vou comprar um dicionário que só tenha nomes feios&lt;br /&gt;Que é para eu tos chamar todos até tu teres os ouvidos cheios.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ora dá cá um e a seguir dá outro&lt;br /&gt;Depois dá mais um que só dois é pouco &lt;br /&gt;Ai eu gosto tanto e é tão docinho&lt;br /&gt;E no entretanto dá mais um beijinho.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ora dá cá um e a seguir dá outro&lt;br /&gt;Depois dá mais um que só dois é pouco &lt;br /&gt;Ai eu gosto tanto e é tão docinho&lt;br /&gt;E no entretanto dá mais um beijinho."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-3052170105305577513?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/3052170105305577513/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/carlos-paiao-esta-e-mais-para-gozar-p.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/3052170105305577513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/3052170105305577513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/carlos-paiao-esta-e-mais-para-gozar-p.html' title='Carlos Paião (esta é mais para divertir =P )'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-8457712183332760315</id><published>2009-05-27T00:10:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T00:46:18.286+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>System of a down</title><content type='html'>"Forest"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Walk with me my little child&lt;br /&gt;To the forest of denial&lt;br /&gt;Speak with me my only mind&lt;br /&gt;Walk with me until the time&lt;br /&gt;And make the forest turn to wine&lt;br /&gt;You take the legend for a fall&lt;br /&gt;You saw the product&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why can't you see that you are, my, child&lt;br /&gt;Why don't you know that you are, my, mind&lt;br /&gt;Tell everyone in the world, that I'm, you&lt;br /&gt;Take this promise to the end, of, you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Walk with me my little friend&lt;br /&gt;Take this promise to the end&lt;br /&gt;Speak with me my only mind&lt;br /&gt;Walk with me until the end&lt;br /&gt;And make the forest turn to sand&lt;br /&gt;You take the legend for a fall&lt;br /&gt;You saw the product&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why can't you see that you are, my, child&lt;br /&gt;Why don't you know that you are, my, mind&lt;br /&gt;Tell everyone in the world, that I'm, you&lt;br /&gt;Take this promise to the end, of, you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take this promise for a ride&lt;br /&gt;You saw the forest now come inside&lt;br /&gt;You took the legend for its fall&lt;br /&gt;You saw the product of it all&lt;br /&gt;No televisions in the air&lt;br /&gt;No circumcisions on the chair&lt;br /&gt;You made the weapons for us all&lt;br /&gt;Just look at us now&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why can't you see that you are, my, child&lt;br /&gt;Why don't you know that you are, my, mind&lt;br /&gt;Tell everyone in the world, that I'm, you&lt;br /&gt;Take this promise to the end, of, you"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-8457712183332760315?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/8457712183332760315/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/system-of-down_27.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/8457712183332760315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/8457712183332760315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/system-of-down_27.html' title='System of a down'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-8183437569444536848</id><published>2009-05-27T00:09:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T00:46:36.329+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>System of a down</title><content type='html'>"Chop Suey"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We're Rolling Suicide&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wake up [Wake up]&lt;br /&gt;Grab a brush and put a little makeup&lt;br /&gt;Hide the scars to fade away the shake up&lt;br /&gt;[Hide the scars to fade away the]&lt;br /&gt;Why'd you leave the keys upon the table?&lt;br /&gt;Here you go create another fable&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You wanted to,&lt;br /&gt;Grab a brush and put a little makeup&lt;br /&gt;You wanted to,&lt;br /&gt;Hide the scars to fade away the shake up&lt;br /&gt;You wanted to,&lt;br /&gt;Why'd you leave the keys upon the table?&lt;br /&gt;You wanted to&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think you trust&lt;br /&gt;In, my, self righteous suicide&lt;br /&gt;I, cry, when angels deserve to DIE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!&lt;br /&gt;Wake up [Wake up]&lt;br /&gt;Grab a brush and put a little makeup&lt;br /&gt;Hide the scars to fade away the&lt;br /&gt;[Hide the scars to fade away the sh...]&lt;br /&gt;Why'd you leave the keys upon the table?&lt;br /&gt;Here you go create another fable&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You wanted to,&lt;br /&gt;Grab a brush and put a little makeup&lt;br /&gt;You wanted to,&lt;br /&gt;Hide the scars to fade away the shake up&lt;br /&gt;You wanted to,&lt;br /&gt;Why'd you leave the keys upon the table?&lt;br /&gt;You wanted to&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think you trust&lt;br /&gt;In, my, self righteous suicide&lt;br /&gt;I, cry, when angels deserve to die&lt;br /&gt;In, my, self righteous suicide&lt;br /&gt;I, cry, when angels deserve to die..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FATHER!(FATHER!)&lt;br /&gt;FATHER!(FATHER!)&lt;br /&gt;FATHER!(FATHER!)&lt;br /&gt;FATHER!(FATHER!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Father into your hands,&lt;br /&gt;I commend my spirit&lt;br /&gt;Father into your hands&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why have you forsaken me?&lt;br /&gt;In your eyes forsaken me&lt;br /&gt;In your thoughts forsaken me&lt;br /&gt;In your heart forsaken, me oh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trust in my self righteous suicide&lt;br /&gt;I, cry, when angels deserve to die&lt;br /&gt;In my self righteous suicide&lt;br /&gt;I, cry, when angels deserve to die..."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-8183437569444536848?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/8183437569444536848/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/system-of-down.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/8183437569444536848'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/8183437569444536848'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/system-of-down.html' title='System of a down'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-7311432833213404882</id><published>2009-05-27T00:08:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T00:47:04.897+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Amália Rodrigues</title><content type='html'>"Nem às paredes confesso"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Não queiras gostar de mim&lt;br /&gt;Sem que eu te peça,&lt;br /&gt;Nem me dês nada que ao fim&lt;br /&gt;Eu não mereça&lt;br /&gt;Vê se me deitas depois&lt;br /&gt;Culpas no rosto&lt;br /&gt;Eu sou sincera&lt;br /&gt;Porque não quero&lt;br /&gt;Dar-te um desgosto&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De quem eu gosto&lt;br /&gt;nem às paredes confesso&lt;br /&gt;E até aposto&lt;br /&gt;Que não gosto de ninguém&lt;br /&gt;Podes rogar&lt;br /&gt;Podes chorar&lt;br /&gt;Podes sorrir também&lt;br /&gt;De quem eu gosto&lt;br /&gt;Nem às paredes confesso.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quem sabe se te esqueci&lt;br /&gt;Ou se te quero&lt;br /&gt;Quem sabe até se é por ti&lt;br /&gt;que eu tanto espero.&lt;br /&gt;Se gosto ou não afinal&lt;br /&gt;Isso é comigo,&lt;br /&gt;Mesmo que penses&lt;br /&gt;Que me convences&lt;br /&gt;Nada te digo."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-7311432833213404882?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/7311432833213404882/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/amalia-rodrigues.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/7311432833213404882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/7311432833213404882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/amalia-rodrigues.html' title='Amália Rodrigues'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-6380214643862812833</id><published>2009-05-26T00:37:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T00:47:20.218+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Fernando Carvalho</title><content type='html'>"Balada da despedida"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Coimbra tem mais encanto&lt;br /&gt;na hora da despedida&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não me tentes enganar&lt;br /&gt;com a tua formosura&lt;br /&gt;que para além do luar&lt;br /&gt;há sempre a noite escura.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coimbra tem mais encanto&lt;br /&gt;na hora da despedida&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;E as lágrimas do meu pranto&lt;br /&gt;são a luz que me dão vida.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Coimbra tem mais encanto&lt;br /&gt;na hora da despedida.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quem me dera estar contente&lt;br /&gt;enganar a minha dor&lt;br /&gt;mas a saudade não mente,&lt;br /&gt;se é verdade no amor.&lt;/strong&gt;"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-6380214643862812833?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/6380214643862812833/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/fernando-carvalho.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/6380214643862812833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/6380214643862812833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/fernando-carvalho.html' title='Fernando Carvalho'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-1305074461993522403</id><published>2009-05-26T00:34:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T00:47:35.286+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Zeca Afonso</title><content type='html'>"O que faz falta"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Quando a corja topa da janela &lt;br /&gt;O que faz falta &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Quando o pão que comes sabe a merda &lt;br /&gt;O que faz falta&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O que faz falta é avisar a malta &lt;br /&gt;O que faz falta &lt;br /&gt;O que faz falta é avisar a malta &lt;br /&gt;O que faz falta &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Quando nunca a noite foi dormida &lt;br /&gt;O que faz falta &lt;br /&gt;Quando a raiva nunca foi vencida &lt;br /&gt;O que faz falta&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O que faz falta é animar a malta &lt;br /&gt;O que faz falta &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;O que faz falta é acordar a malta &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O que faz falta &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quando nunca a infância teve infância &lt;br /&gt;O que faz falta &lt;br /&gt;Quando sabes que vai haver dança &lt;br /&gt;O que faz falta &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O que faz falta é animar a malta &lt;br /&gt;O que faz falta &lt;br /&gt;O que faz falta é empurrar a malta &lt;br /&gt;O que faz falta &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quando um cão te morde a canela &lt;br /&gt;O que faz falta &lt;br /&gt;Quando a esquina há sempre uma cabeça &lt;br /&gt;O que faz falta &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O que faz falta é animar a malta &lt;br /&gt;O que faz falta &lt;br /&gt;O que faz falta é empurrar a malta &lt;br /&gt;O que faz falta &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quando um homem dorme na valeta &lt;br /&gt;O que faz falta &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Quando dizem que isto é tudo treta &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O que faz falta &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O que faz falta é agitar a malta &lt;br /&gt;O que faz falta &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;O que faz falta é libertar a malta&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;br /&gt;O que faz falta &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Se o patrão não vai com duas loas &lt;br /&gt;O que faz falta &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Se o fascista conspira na sombra &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O que faz falta &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O que faz falta é avisar a malta &lt;br /&gt;O que faz falta &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;O que faz falta é dar poder a malta &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O que faz falta"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-1305074461993522403?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/1305074461993522403/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/zeca-afonso_6789.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/1305074461993522403'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/1305074461993522403'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/zeca-afonso_6789.html' title='Zeca Afonso'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-514637539237725809</id><published>2009-05-26T00:31:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T00:47:51.572+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Zeca Afonso</title><content type='html'>"O Homem da gaita"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Havia na terra&lt;br /&gt;Um homem que tinha&lt;br /&gt;Uma gaita bem de pasmar&lt;br /&gt;Se alguém a ouvia&lt;br /&gt;Fosse gente ou bicho&lt;br /&gt;Entrava na roda a dançar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um dia passava&lt;br /&gt;Um sujeito e ao lado&lt;br /&gt;Um burro com louça a trotar&lt;br /&gt;O dono e o burro&lt;br /&gt;Ouvindo a tocata&lt;br /&gt;Puseram-se logo a bailar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Partiu-se a faiança&lt;br /&gt;Em cacos c'o a dança&lt;br /&gt;E o pobre pedia a gritar&lt;br /&gt;Ao homem da gaita&lt;br /&gt;Que acabasse a fita&lt;br /&gt;Mas nada ficou por quebrar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O Juiz de fora&lt;br /&gt;Chamado na hora&lt;br /&gt;"Só tenho que te condenar&lt;br /&gt;Mas quero uma prova&lt;br /&gt;Se é crime ou se é trova&lt;br /&gt;Faz lá essa gaita tocar"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O homem da louça&lt;br /&gt;Sentado na sala&lt;br /&gt;Levanta-se e põe-se a saltar&lt;br /&gt;Enquanto a rabeca&lt;br /&gt;Não se incomodava&lt;br /&gt;A sua cadeira era o par&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pulava o jurista&lt;br /&gt;De quico na crista&lt;br /&gt;Ninguém se atrevia A parar&lt;br /&gt;E a mãe entrevada&lt;br /&gt;Que estava deitada&lt;br /&gt;Levanta-se E põe-se a bailar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vá de folia vá de folia&lt;br /&gt;Que há sete anos me não mexia"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-514637539237725809?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/514637539237725809/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/zeca-afonso_9503.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/514637539237725809'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/514637539237725809'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/zeca-afonso_9503.html' title='Zeca Afonso'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-7120298176407234818</id><published>2009-05-26T00:25:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T00:48:31.499+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Zeca Afonso</title><content type='html'>"Coro da Primavera"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;strong&gt;Cobre-te canalha &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Na mortalha &lt;br /&gt;Hoje o rei vai nu &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Os velhos tiranos &lt;br /&gt;De há mil anos &lt;br /&gt;Morrem como tu &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Abre uma trincheira &lt;br /&gt;Companheira &lt;br /&gt;Deita-te no chão &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sempre à tua frente &lt;br /&gt;Viste gente &lt;br /&gt;Doutra condição &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ergue-te ó Sol de Verão &lt;br /&gt;Somos nós os teus cantores &lt;br /&gt;Da matinal canção &lt;br /&gt;Ouvem-se já os rumores &lt;br /&gt;Ouvem-se já os clamores &lt;br /&gt;Ouvem-se já os tambores &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Livra-te do medo &lt;br /&gt;Que bem cedo &lt;br /&gt;Há-de o Sol queimar &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E tu camarada &lt;br /&gt;Põe-te em guarda &lt;br /&gt;Que te vão matar &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Venham lavradeiras &lt;br /&gt;Mondadeiras &lt;br /&gt;Deste campo em flor &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Venham enlaçdas &lt;br /&gt;De mãos dadas &lt;br /&gt;Semear o amor &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ergue-te ó Sol de Verão &lt;br /&gt;Somos nós os teus cantores &lt;br /&gt;Da matinal canção &lt;br /&gt;Ouvem-se já os rumores &lt;br /&gt;Ouvem-se já os clamores &lt;br /&gt;Ouvem-se já os tambores &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Venha a maré cheia &lt;br /&gt;Duma ideia &lt;br /&gt;P´ra nos empurrar &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Só um pensamento &lt;br /&gt;No momento &lt;br /&gt;P´ra nos despertar &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eia mais um braço &lt;br /&gt;E outro braço &lt;br /&gt;Nos conduz irmão &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sempre a nossa fome &lt;br /&gt;Nos consome &lt;br /&gt;Dá-me a tua mão &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ergue-te ó Sol de Verão &lt;br /&gt;Somos nós os teus cantores &lt;br /&gt;Da matinal canção &lt;br /&gt;Ouvem-se já os rumores &lt;br /&gt;Ouvem-se já os clamores &lt;br /&gt;Ouvem-se já os tambores&lt;/strong&gt;"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-7120298176407234818?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/7120298176407234818/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/zeca-afonso_26.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/7120298176407234818'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/7120298176407234818'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/zeca-afonso_26.html' title='Zeca Afonso'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-8180682467850020465</id><published>2009-05-24T16:22:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T00:48:49.634+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Zeca Afonso</title><content type='html'>"Canção de embalar"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Dorme meu menino a estrela d'alva&lt;br /&gt;Já a procurei e não a vi&lt;br /&gt;Se ela não vier de madrugada&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Outra que eu souber será p'ra ti &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Outra que eu souber na noite escura&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sobre o teu sorriso de encantar&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ouvirás cantando nas alturas&lt;br /&gt;Trovas e cantigas de embalar &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trovas e cantigas muito belas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Afina a garganta meu cantor&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quando a luz se apaga nas janelas&lt;br /&gt;Perde a estrela d'alva o seu fulgor &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perde a estrela d'alva pequenina&lt;br /&gt;Se outra não vier para a render&lt;br /&gt;Dorme qu'inda a noite é uma menina&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Deixa-a vir também adormecer&lt;/strong&gt;"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-8180682467850020465?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/8180682467850020465/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/zeca-afonso.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/8180682467850020465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/8180682467850020465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/zeca-afonso.html' title='Zeca Afonso'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-4272212748078208442</id><published>2009-05-24T16:20:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T00:49:35.422+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>UHF</title><content type='html'>"A lágrima caiu"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Tu sabes bem, que o amor se perdeu&lt;br /&gt;Não o faças refém, foi meu e teu&lt;br /&gt;Foi o que foi, o que nós deixamos&lt;br /&gt;Inocentes os dois, culpados ficamos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A lágrima caiu, sem tu saberes&lt;br /&gt;Por ti caiu, a última vez&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A flor da saudade, que nascem selvagem&lt;br /&gt;Daninha se espalha, por toda a paisagem&lt;br /&gt;Por todos os recais, em todos os cheiros&lt;br /&gt;Há histórias reais, de um cativeiro&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A lágrima caiu, sem tu saberes&lt;br /&gt;Por ti caiu, a última vez&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Um dia talvez, possamos lembrar&lt;br /&gt;De novo talvez, falar sem gritar&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A lágrima caiu, sem tu saberes&lt;br /&gt;Por ti caiu, a última vez&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A lágrima caiu, sem tu saberes&lt;br /&gt;Por ti caiu, a última vez"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-4272212748078208442?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/4272212748078208442/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/uhf.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/4272212748078208442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/4272212748078208442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/uhf.html' title='UHF'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-7379710915839617364</id><published>2009-05-24T16:19:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T00:49:48.498+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Xutos e Pontapés</title><content type='html'>"Para sempre"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"O nosso amor de sempre&lt;br /&gt;Brilhará, p'ra sempre&lt;br /&gt;Ai, meu amor&lt;br /&gt;O que eu já chorei por ti&lt;br /&gt;Mas sempre&lt;br /&gt;P'ra sempre&lt;br /&gt;Vou gostar de ti&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Juro, meu amor que sempre&lt;br /&gt;Voltarei, p'ra sempre&lt;br /&gt;Ai, meu amor&lt;br /&gt;O que eu já chorei por ti&lt;br /&gt;Mas sempre&lt;br /&gt;P'ra sempre&lt;br /&gt;Gostarei de ti&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ai, meu amor&lt;br /&gt;O que eu já chorei por ti&lt;br /&gt;Mas sempre&lt;br /&gt;P'ra sempre&lt;br /&gt;Vou gostar de ti"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-7379710915839617364?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/7379710915839617364/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/xutos-e-pontapes_6175.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/7379710915839617364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/7379710915839617364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/xutos-e-pontapes_6175.html' title='Xutos e Pontapés'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-2418584483365593377</id><published>2009-05-24T01:54:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T00:50:03.373+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Xutos e Pontapés</title><content type='html'>"Negras como a noite"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Com mãos de veludo &lt;br /&gt;Negras como a noite &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tu deste-me tudo &lt;br /&gt;E eu parti&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um homem trabalha &lt;br /&gt;Do outro lado do rio &lt;br /&gt;Com as suas duas mãos &lt;br /&gt;Repara o navio &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Está sozinho e triste &lt;br /&gt;Mas tem de aguentar &lt;br /&gt;Já falta tão pouco &lt;br /&gt;Para poder voltar&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vai ficar tudo bem &lt;br /&gt;Isso eu sei &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Vai ficar tudo bem &lt;br /&gt;Isso eu sei&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;br /&gt;quando o sol &lt;br /&gt;Se juntar ao mar &lt;br /&gt;E te voltara beijar &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Só mais uma vez, só mais uma vez &lt;br /&gt;Só mais uma vez, só mais esta vez &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Com adeus começa &lt;br /&gt;Outro dia igual &lt;br /&gt;Ficou a promessa &lt;br /&gt;Escondida no lençol &lt;br /&gt;Negras como a noite &lt;br /&gt;Vindas de outra terra &lt;br /&gt;As mãos de veludo &lt;br /&gt;Estão á sua espera &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vai ficar tudo bem &lt;br /&gt;Isso eu sei &lt;br /&gt;Vai ficar tudo bem &lt;br /&gt;Isso eu sei &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;quando o sol &lt;br /&gt;Se juntar ao mar &lt;br /&gt;E te voltara beijar &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Só mais uma vez, só mais uma vez &lt;br /&gt;Só mais uma vez, só mais esta vez"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-2418584483365593377?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/2418584483365593377/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/xutos-e-pontapes_1032.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/2418584483365593377'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/2418584483365593377'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/xutos-e-pontapes_1032.html' title='Xutos e Pontapés'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-3745783318808107476</id><published>2009-05-24T01:53:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T00:50:21.340+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Xutos e Pontapés</title><content type='html'>"Não sou o único"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Pensas que eu sou um caso isolado&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Não sou o único a olhar o céu&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A ver os sonhos partirem&lt;br /&gt;À espera que algo aconteça&lt;br /&gt;A despejar a minha raiva&lt;br /&gt;A viver as emoções&lt;br /&gt;A desejar o que não tive&lt;br /&gt;Agarrado ás tentações&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E quando as nuvens partirem&lt;br /&gt;O céu azul ficará&lt;br /&gt;E quando as trevas abrirem&lt;br /&gt;Vais ver, o sol brilhará&lt;br /&gt;Vais ver, o sol brilhará&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não, não sou o único&lt;br /&gt;Não, sou o único a olhar o céu&lt;br /&gt;Não, não sou o único&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Não, sou o único a olhar o céu &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pensas que eu sou um caso isolado&lt;br /&gt;Não sou o único a olhar o céu&lt;br /&gt;A ouvir os conselhos dos outros&lt;br /&gt;E sempre a cair nos buracos&lt;br /&gt;A desejar o que não tive&lt;br /&gt;Agarrado ao que não tenho&lt;br /&gt;Não, não sou o único&lt;br /&gt;Não sou o único a olhar o céu&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E quando as nuvens partirem&lt;br /&gt;O céu azul ficará&lt;br /&gt;E quando as trevas abrirem&lt;br /&gt;Vais ver, o sol brilhará&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Vais ver, o sol brilhará&lt;/strong&gt;"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-3745783318808107476?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/3745783318808107476/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/xutos-e-pontapes_8070.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/3745783318808107476'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/3745783318808107476'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/xutos-e-pontapes_8070.html' title='Xutos e Pontapés'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-4225085478945791797</id><published>2009-05-24T01:50:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T00:50:41.145+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Xutos e Pontapés</title><content type='html'>"Homem do leme"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sozinho na noite&lt;br /&gt;um barco ruma para onde vai.&lt;br /&gt;Uma luz no escuro brilha a direito&lt;br /&gt;ofusca as demais.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;E mais que uma onda, mais que uma maré...&lt;br /&gt;Tentaram prendê-lo impor-lhe uma fé...&lt;br /&gt;Mas, vogando à vontade, rompendo a saudade,&lt;br /&gt;vai quem já nada teme, vai o homem do leme...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;E uma vontade de rir nasce do fundo do ser.&lt;br /&gt;E uma vontade de ir, correr o mundo e partir,&lt;br /&gt;a vida é sempre a perder...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No fundo do mar&lt;br /&gt;jazem os outros, os que lá ficaram.&lt;br /&gt;Em dias cinzentos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;descanso eterno lá encontraram.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E mais que uma onda, mais que uma maré...&lt;br /&gt;Tentaram prendê-lo, impor-lhe uma fé...&lt;br /&gt;Mas, vogando à vontade, rompendo a saudade,&lt;br /&gt;vai quem já nada teme, vai o homem do leme...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E uma vontade de rir nasce do fundo do ser.&lt;br /&gt;E uma vontade de ir, correr o mundo e partir,&lt;br /&gt;a vida é sempre a perder...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No fundo horizonte&lt;br /&gt;sopra o murmúrio para onde vai.&lt;br /&gt;No fundo do tempo&lt;br /&gt;foge o futuro, é tarde demais...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E uma vontade de rir nasce do fundo do ser.&lt;br /&gt;E uma vontade de ir, correr o mundo e partir,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;a vida é sempre a perder...&lt;/strong&gt;"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-4225085478945791797?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/4225085478945791797/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/xutos-e-pontapes_24.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/4225085478945791797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/4225085478945791797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/xutos-e-pontapes_24.html' title='Xutos e Pontapés'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-8301197083977151171</id><published>2009-05-21T01:34:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T00:51:23.493+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Xutos e Pontapés</title><content type='html'>"Conta-me histórias"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Agora que pousas a cabeça&lt;br /&gt;na almofada e respiras satisfeito&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;quero o teu amor sem sentido nem proveito&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Agora que repousas&lt;br /&gt;lentamente sigo a curva do teu peito&lt;br /&gt;procuro o segredo do teu cheiro&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Juntos fomos correndo lado a lado&lt;br /&gt;Juntos fomos sofrendo ter amado&lt;br /&gt;Amas a vida&lt;br /&gt;e eu amo-te a ti&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Conta-me historias daquilo que eu não vi...&lt;br /&gt;Conta-me historias daquilo que eu não vi...&lt;br /&gt;Conta-me historias daquilo que eu não vi...&lt;br /&gt;Conta-me historias daquilo que eu não vi...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Logo acordas&lt;br /&gt;e pedes-me um cigarro que eu não fumo&lt;br /&gt;sonho planos do futuro&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Logo juntas a tua roupa&lt;br /&gt;e dizes que a vida está lá fora&lt;br /&gt;passou a minha hora...&lt;br /&gt;passou a minha hora...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Juntos fomos correndo lado a lado&lt;br /&gt;Juntos fomos sofrendo ter amado&lt;br /&gt;Amas a vida&lt;br /&gt;e eu amo-te a ti&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Conta-me historias daquilo que eu não vi...&lt;br /&gt;Conta-me historias daquilo que eu não vi...&lt;br /&gt;Conta-me historias daquilo que eu não vi...&lt;br /&gt;Conta-me historias daquilo que eu não vi..."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-8301197083977151171?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/8301197083977151171/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/xutos-e-pontapes_6833.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/8301197083977151171'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/8301197083977151171'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/xutos-e-pontapes_6833.html' title='Xutos e Pontapés'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-6496079621884315382</id><published>2009-05-21T01:31:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T00:51:46.937+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Xutos e Pontapés</title><content type='html'>"Chuva dissolvente"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Entre a chuva dissolvente&lt;br /&gt;No meu caminho de casa&lt;br /&gt;Dou comigo na corrente&lt;br /&gt;Desta gente que se arrasta&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Metro, túnel, confusão&lt;br /&gt;Entre súor despertino&lt;br /&gt;Mergulho na multidão&lt;br /&gt;No dia a dia sem destino&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Putos que crescem sem se ver&lt;br /&gt;Basta pô-los em frente à televisão&lt;br /&gt;Hão-de um dia se esquecer&lt;br /&gt;Rasgar retratos, largar-me a mão&lt;br /&gt;Hão-de um dia se esquecer&lt;br /&gt;Como eu quando cresci&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Será que ainda te lembras&lt;br /&gt;Do que fizeram por ti?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E o que foi feito de ti?&lt;br /&gt;E o que foi feito de mim?&lt;br /&gt;E o que foi feito de ti?&lt;br /&gt;Já me lembrei, já me esqueci&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Quando te livrares do peso&lt;br /&gt;Desse amor que não entendes&lt;br /&gt;Vais sentir uma outra força&lt;br /&gt;Como que uma falta imensa&lt;br /&gt;E quando deres por ti&lt;br /&gt;Entre a chuva dissolvente&lt;br /&gt;És o pai de uma criança&lt;br /&gt;No seu caminho de casa&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;E o que foi feito de ti?&lt;br /&gt;E o que foi feito de mim?&lt;br /&gt;E o que foi feito de ti?&lt;br /&gt;Já me lembrei...&lt;br /&gt;Já me lembrei, já me esqueci"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-6496079621884315382?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/6496079621884315382/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/xutos-e-pontapes_21.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/6496079621884315382'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/6496079621884315382'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/xutos-e-pontapes_21.html' title='Xutos e Pontapés'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-280876663450063218</id><published>2009-05-21T01:29:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T00:52:12.663+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Xutos e Pontapés</title><content type='html'>"A minha casinha"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ai as saudades que eu ja tinha&lt;br /&gt;Da minha alegre casinha&lt;br /&gt;Tão modesta quanto eu&lt;br /&gt;Meu Deus como é bom morar&lt;br /&gt;No rés do primeiro andar&lt;br /&gt;A contar vindo do céu"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-280876663450063218?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/280876663450063218/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/xutos-e-pontapes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/280876663450063218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/280876663450063218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/xutos-e-pontapes.html' title='Xutos e Pontapés'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-8637423495461542265</id><published>2009-05-20T00:36:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T00:52:46.737+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Vasco Santana</title><content type='html'>"Fado do estudante"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Triste sina ver-me assim &lt;br /&gt;Que sorte vil, degradante &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ai que saudade eu sinto em mim &lt;br /&gt;Do meu viver de estudante &lt;br /&gt;Esse fogaz tempo de amor &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Que d'um rapaz era o melhor &lt;br /&gt;Era um audaz conquistador das raparigas &lt;br /&gt;De capa ao léu cabeça ao ar &lt;br /&gt;Só para amar vivia eu &lt;br /&gt;sem me ralar e tudo mais eram cantigas &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nenhuma delas me prendeu &lt;br /&gt;Deixa-las eu era canja &lt;br /&gt;Até ao dia em que apareceu &lt;br /&gt;Essa traidora de franja &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sempre a tenir sem um tostão &lt;br /&gt;Batina a abrir por um rasgão &lt;br /&gt;Botas a rir e um bengalão e ar descarado &lt;br /&gt;A vadiar com outros mais &lt;br /&gt;para ir dançar para os arraias &lt;br /&gt;Pra namorar beber folgar cantar o fado &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recordo agora com saudade &lt;br /&gt;Os calhamaços que eu lia &lt;br /&gt;os professores da faculdade &lt;br /&gt;E a mesa de anatomia &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Evoco em mim recordações &lt;br /&gt;que não têm fim dessas lições &lt;br /&gt;Frente ao jardim do velho campo de santana &lt;br /&gt;Aulas que dava e sem estudar &lt;br /&gt;Só ainda estava nessa classe &lt;br /&gt;A que eu faltava sete dias por semana... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;O fado é toda a minha fé &lt;br /&gt;Embala encanta e nebria &lt;br /&gt;Pois chega a ser bonito até &lt;br /&gt;Na rádio-telefonia &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;quando é tocado com amor &lt;br /&gt;bem afinado e a rigor &lt;br /&gt;é belo fado ninguém há que lhe resista &lt;br /&gt;É a canção mais popular &lt;br /&gt;tem emoção faz-nos vibrar &lt;br /&gt;e heis a razão de eu ser doutor e ser fadista"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-8637423495461542265?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/8637423495461542265/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/vasco-santana.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/8637423495461542265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/8637423495461542265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/vasco-santana.html' title='Vasco Santana'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-7671397819180910415</id><published>2009-05-20T00:34:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T00:53:00.764+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Resistência</title><content type='html'>"Timor"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Andam lá sem descansar, &lt;br /&gt;Nas montanhas a lutar&lt;br /&gt;Iluminam todo o mar &lt;br /&gt;De Timor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nas montanhas sem dormir &lt;br /&gt;Uma luz a resistir&lt;br /&gt;Arde sem se apagar &lt;br /&gt;Em Timor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Andorinha de asa negra &lt;br /&gt;Se o teu voo lá passar&lt;br /&gt;Faz chegar um grande abraço, &lt;br /&gt;Dá saudades a Timor&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eles não podem escrever, &lt;br /&gt;Porque vão a combater&lt;br /&gt;Vão de manhã defender &lt;br /&gt;A Timor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;As crianças a chorar, &lt;br /&gt;Não as posso consolar&lt;br /&gt;Que eu nunca cheguei a ver &lt;br /&gt;A Timor&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Andorinha de asa negra &lt;br /&gt;Vem ouvir o meu cantar&lt;br /&gt;Ai que dor rasga o meu peito &lt;br /&gt;Sem noticias de Timor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nunca mais hei-de voltar &lt;br /&gt;Já não posso lá voltar&lt;br /&gt;À idade de lembrar &lt;br /&gt;A Timor&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Estam lá a descansar &lt;br /&gt;Nas montanhas a lutar&lt;br /&gt;Iluminam todo o mar &lt;br /&gt;De Timor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Andorinha de asa negra &lt;br /&gt;Vem ouvir o meu cantar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ai que dor rasga o meu peito &lt;br /&gt;Sem noticias de Timor&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Andorinha de asa negra &lt;br /&gt;Se o teu voo lá passar&lt;br /&gt;Faz chegar um grande abraço, &lt;br /&gt;Dá saudades a Timor"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-7671397819180910415?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/7671397819180910415/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/resistencia_20.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/7671397819180910415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/7671397819180910415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/resistencia_20.html' title='Resistência'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-5980339082383299963</id><published>2009-05-20T00:28:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T00:54:09.337+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Resistência</title><content type='html'>"Nasce selvagem"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mais do que a um país &lt;br /&gt;Que a uma família ou geração &lt;br /&gt;Mais do que a um passado &lt;br /&gt;Que a uma história ou tradição &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tu pertences a ti &lt;br /&gt;Não és de ninguém&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mais do que a um patrão &lt;br /&gt;Que a uma rotina ou profissão &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Mais do que a um partido &lt;br /&gt;Que a uma equipa ou religião &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tu pertences a ti &lt;br /&gt;Não és de ninguém &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Vive selvagem &lt;br /&gt;E para ti serás alguém &lt;br /&gt;Nesta viagem &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quando alguém nasce, &lt;br /&gt;Nasce selvagem &lt;br /&gt;Não é de ninguém"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-5980339082383299963?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/5980339082383299963/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/resistencia.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/5980339082383299963'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/5980339082383299963'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/resistencia.html' title='Resistência'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-1897532230331757363</id><published>2009-05-18T02:03:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T00:54:23.833+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Live</title><content type='html'>"Run to the water"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh desert speak to my heart&lt;br /&gt;oh woman of the earth&lt;br /&gt;maker of children who weep for love&lt;br /&gt;maker of this birth&lt;br /&gt;'til your deepest secrets are known to me&lt;br /&gt;I will not be moved&lt;br /&gt;I will not be moved&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;don't try to find the answer&lt;br /&gt;when there ain't no question here&lt;br /&gt;brother let your heart be wounded&lt;br /&gt;and give no mercy to your fear&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;adam and eve live down the street from me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;babylon is every town&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it's as crazy as it's ever been&lt;br /&gt;love's a stranger all around&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in a moment we lost our minds here&lt;br /&gt;and lay our spirit down&lt;br /&gt;today we lived a thousand years&lt;br /&gt;all we have is now&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;run to the water&lt;br /&gt;and find me there&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;burnt to the core but not broken&lt;br /&gt;we'll cut through the madness&lt;br /&gt;of these streets below the moon&lt;br /&gt;these streets below the moon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and I will never leave you&lt;br /&gt;'til we can say, "this world was just a dream&lt;br /&gt;we were sleepin' now we are awake"&lt;br /&gt;'til we can say&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in a moment we lost our minds here&lt;br /&gt;and dreamt the world was round&lt;br /&gt;a million mile fall from grace&lt;br /&gt;thank god we missed the ground&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;run to the water&lt;br /&gt;and find me there&lt;br /&gt;burnt to the core but not broken&lt;br /&gt;we'll cut through the madness&lt;br /&gt;of these streets below the moon&lt;br /&gt;with a nuclear fire of love in our hearts&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yeah, I can see it now lord&lt;br /&gt;out beyond all the breakin' of waves&lt;br /&gt;and the tribulation&lt;br /&gt;it's a place and the home of ascended souls&lt;br /&gt;who swam out there in love!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;run to the water&lt;br /&gt;and find me there&lt;br /&gt;burnt to the core but not broken&lt;br /&gt;we'll cut through the madness&lt;br /&gt;of these streets below the moon&lt;br /&gt;with a nuclear fire of love in our hearts&lt;br /&gt;rest easy baby, rest easy&lt;br /&gt;and recognize it all as light and rainbows&lt;br /&gt;smashed to smithereens and be happy&lt;br /&gt;run to the water (and find me there)&lt;br /&gt;run to the water"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-1897532230331757363?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/1897532230331757363/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/live.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/1897532230331757363'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/1897532230331757363'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/live.html' title='Live'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564716434743656476.post-62662818951753717</id><published>2009-05-18T01:59:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T00:56:07.777+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='músicas com alma'/><title type='text'>Jason Mraz</title><content type='html'>"I'm Yours"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I tried to be chill&lt;br /&gt;but your so hot that I melted&lt;br /&gt;I fell right through the cracks,&lt;br /&gt;and I'm tryin' to get back&lt;br /&gt;before the cool done run out&lt;br /&gt;I'll be givin it my best test&lt;br /&gt;and nothin's gonna stop me&lt;br /&gt;but divine intervention&lt;br /&gt;I reckon it's again my turn&lt;br /&gt;to win some or learn some&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I won't hesitate&lt;br /&gt;No more, no more&lt;br /&gt;it cannot wait,&lt;br /&gt;I'm yours!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well open up your mind&lt;br /&gt;and see like me&lt;br /&gt;open up your plans&lt;br /&gt;and damn you're free&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;look into your heart&lt;br /&gt;and you'll find love love love&lt;br /&gt;listen to the music of the moment&lt;br /&gt;maybe sing with me&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah, la peaceful melody&lt;br /&gt;It's your God-forsaken right&lt;br /&gt;to be loved, love, loved, love Love&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I won't hesitate&lt;br /&gt;No more, no more,&lt;br /&gt;it cannot wait&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure.&lt;br /&gt;There's no need to complicate&lt;br /&gt;Our time is short&lt;br /&gt;This is our fate,&lt;br /&gt;I'm yours!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been spendin' way too long&lt;br /&gt;checkin' my tongue in the mirror&lt;br /&gt;and bendin' over backwards&lt;br /&gt;just to try to see it clearer&lt;br /&gt;my breath fogged up the glass&lt;br /&gt;and so I drew a new face and laughed&lt;br /&gt;I guess what I'm a sayin' is&lt;br /&gt;there ain't no better reason&lt;br /&gt;to rid yourself of vanity&lt;br /&gt;and just go with the seasons&lt;br /&gt;it's what we aim to do&lt;br /&gt;our name is our virtue&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I won't hesitate&lt;br /&gt;No more, no more,&lt;br /&gt;it cannot wait&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's no need to complicate&lt;br /&gt;(Well open up your mind and see like me)&lt;br /&gt;Our time is short&lt;br /&gt;(open up your plans and damn you're free)&lt;br /&gt;it cannot wait, I'm yours!&lt;br /&gt;(look into your heart and you'll find love love love)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, I won't hesitate&lt;br /&gt;(listen to the music of the moment come and dance with me)&lt;br /&gt;no more, no more&lt;br /&gt;(ah, la one big family)&lt;br /&gt;it cannot wait, I'm sure.&lt;br /&gt;(it's your god forsaken right to be loved, love, loved, love)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's no need to complicate&lt;br /&gt;(well, open up your mind and see like me)&lt;br /&gt;Our time is short&lt;br /&gt;(open up your plans and damn you're free)&lt;br /&gt;this is our fate, I'm yours!&lt;br /&gt;(look into your heart and you'll find love love love love)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;no, please, don't complicate,&lt;br /&gt;(listen to the music of the moment come and dance with me)&lt;br /&gt;our time is short&lt;br /&gt;(ah, la happy family)&lt;br /&gt;this is our fate, I'm yours!&lt;br /&gt;(it's our god forsaken right to be loved, love, loved, love)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;no, please, don't hesitate&lt;br /&gt;(listen to the music of the moment come and dance with me)&lt;br /&gt;no more, no more&lt;br /&gt;(ah, la peaceful melodies)&lt;br /&gt;it cannot wait,&lt;br /&gt;(it's you god forsaken right to be loved, love, loved, love)&lt;br /&gt;the sky is yours!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/564716434743656476-62662818951753717?l=coresdossons.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/feeds/62662818951753717/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/jason-mraz.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/62662818951753717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/564716434743656476/posts/default/62662818951753717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coresdossons.blogspot.com/2009/05/jason-mraz.html' title='Jason Mraz'/><author><name>Marta*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05471597392963288763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_izegG-NrCRg/SfopYM3dMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/wos3FtaMUhs/S220/P1050557.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
