Thursday, 12 November 2009

I Did It My Way

Pictures of old times make you feel sorry for the things that cannot be the same anymore. There are pictures with color and smell, memories and snapshots of good times. Together with those you loved to spend your time with.

Maybe it's useless to dig a way to these times. To me, it worths the effort because you remember the good ones, you remember people and moments with your friends.

Old times are made to make you compare the novelty of your existence and become melancholic about the things that could have happened if your decisions had been different.

You deserve to reconstruct reality, according to the feelings you have now. You are allowed to dream at old times and places and bring them with you with the help of your mind. Friends might be the same but they might be others, close or distant. At the same time, you realize that you love some of them, though you know you could never have access to what they feel about you

This is why I love old times, and memories. Because the condition for which they inherit the name “memory”is the fact that they remain as they happend.To make you see what you didn’t see, to make you remember faces, friends and to create a sort of melancholic feeling which you are pleased with.

I Did It My Way

And now, the end is near;
And so I face the final curtain.
My friend, Ill say it clear,
Ill state my case, of which Im certain.

Ive lived a life thats full.
Ive traveled each and evry highway;
And more, much more than this,
I did it my way.

Regrets, Ive had a few;
But then again, too few to mention.
I did what I had to do
And saw it through without exemption.

I planned each charted course;
Each careful step along the byway,
But more, much more than this,
I did it my way.

Yes, there were times, Im sure you knew
When I bit off more than I could chew.
But through it all, when there was doubt,
I ate it up and spit it out.
I faced it all and I stood tall;
And did it my way.

Ive loved, Ive laughed and cried.
Ive had my fill; my share of losing.
And now, as tears subside,
I find it all so amusing.

To think I did all that;
And may I say – not in a shy way,
No, oh no not me,I did it my way.

For what is a man, what has he got?
If not himself, then he has naught.
To say the things he truly feels;
And not the words of one who kneels.
The record shows I took the blows -
And did it my way!

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