<?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-4325114963869718079</id><updated>2012-02-16T21:45:29.520Z</updated><title type='text'>Letras, para que vos quero??</title><subtitle type='html'>Outro blog sem nenhum objectivo em concreto. Apenas descontrair... espera aí, sendo assim já tem objectivo!!
Yes!! - os autores advertem: qualquer semelhança com blogs de pitas adolescentes é pura coincidência!</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letrasparaquevosquero.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4325114963869718079/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letrasparaquevosquero.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Jingle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10601893159275507859</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>11</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4325114963869718079.post-4184488834029294746</id><published>2008-12-04T22:42:00.001Z</published><updated>2008-12-04T22:44:28.510Z</updated><title type='text'>Blowin' In The Wind</title><content type='html'>How many roads must a man walk down,&lt;br /&gt;Before you call him a man?&lt;br /&gt;How many seas must a white dove sail,&lt;br /&gt;Before she sleeps in the sand?&lt;br /&gt;Yes and how many times must cannonballs fly,&lt;br /&gt;Before they're forever banned?&lt;br /&gt;The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind&lt;br /&gt;The answer is blowin' in the wind&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes and how many years can a mountain exist,&lt;br /&gt;Before it's washed to the seas (sea)&lt;br /&gt;Yes and how many years can some people exist,&lt;br /&gt;Before they're allowed to be free?&lt;br /&gt;Yes and how many times can a man turn his head,&lt;br /&gt;Pretend that he just doesn't see?&lt;br /&gt;The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind&lt;br /&gt;The answer is blowin' in the wind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes and how many times must a man look up,&lt;br /&gt;Before he can see the sky?&lt;br /&gt;Yes and how many ears must one man have,&lt;br /&gt;Before he can hear people cry?&lt;br /&gt;Yes and how many deaths will it take till he knows&lt;br /&gt;That too many people have died?&lt;br /&gt;The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind&lt;br /&gt;The answer is blowin' in the wind&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dylan&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4325114963869718079-4184488834029294746?l=letrasparaquevosquero.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letrasparaquevosquero.blogspot.com/feeds/4184488834029294746/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4325114963869718079&amp;postID=4184488834029294746&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4325114963869718079/posts/default/4184488834029294746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4325114963869718079/posts/default/4184488834029294746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letrasparaquevosquero.blogspot.com/2008/12/blowin-in-wind.html' title='Blowin&apos; In The Wind'/><author><name>Gonçalo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13846783786529866465</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4325114963869718079.post-4829413059299699060</id><published>2008-10-10T12:33:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2008-10-10T12:36:41.574+01:00</updated><title type='text'>olarilolé</title><content type='html'>Isto é Amor!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I was a flower growing wild and free&lt;br /&gt;All I'd want is you to be my sweet honey bee.&lt;br /&gt;And if I was a tree growing tall and greeen&lt;br /&gt;All I'd want is you to shade me and be my leaves&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I want is you, will you be my bride&lt;br /&gt;Take me by the hand and stand by my side&lt;br /&gt;All I want is you, will you stay with me?&lt;br /&gt;Hold me in your arms and sway me like the sea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you were a river in the mountains tall,&lt;br /&gt;The rumble of your water would be my call.&lt;br /&gt;If you were the winter, I know I'd be the snow&lt;br /&gt;Just as long as you were with me, when the cold winds blow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you were a wink, I'd be a nod&lt;br /&gt;If you were a seed, well I'd be a pod.&lt;br /&gt;If you were the floor, I'd wanna be the rug&lt;br /&gt;And if you were a kiss, I know I'd be a hug&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you were the wood, I'd be the fire.&lt;br /&gt;If you were the love, I'd be the desire.&lt;br /&gt;If you were a castle, I'd be your moat,&lt;br /&gt;And if you were an ocean, I'd learn to float.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I want is you, will you be my bride&lt;br /&gt;Take me by the hand and stand by my side&lt;br /&gt;All I want is you, will you stay with me?&lt;br /&gt;Hold me in your arms and sway me like the sea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="large"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Barry Louis Polisar  - All I Want Is You&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;PS- para os meus amores  =)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4325114963869718079-4829413059299699060?l=letrasparaquevosquero.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letrasparaquevosquero.blogspot.com/feeds/4829413059299699060/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4325114963869718079&amp;postID=4829413059299699060&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4325114963869718079/posts/default/4829413059299699060'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4325114963869718079/posts/default/4829413059299699060'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letrasparaquevosquero.blogspot.com/2008/10/olarilol.html' title='olarilolé'/><author><name>Jingle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10601893159275507859</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4325114963869718079.post-5224613667761335415</id><published>2008-07-13T01:16:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2009-05-30T13:38:44.916+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Histórias do fim do Amor - Capítulo 2</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Quando sentes tudo a tremer sob os pés, sobre os vaus&lt;br /&gt;e entre Richter e Mercali não encontras os graus.&lt;br /&gt;E entre Mercali e Richter não se quer mais o que ainda se quer,&lt;br /&gt;se um sismo de baixa intensidade ou o big-one da verdade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Que saibas a sós que quando o amor fissura&lt;br /&gt;o seu abalo dura e perdura&lt;br /&gt;nas ondas que voltam e partem de nós.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E a vida nos experimenta e rebenta,&lt;br /&gt;e a vida nos experimenta e rebenta,&lt;br /&gt;e a vida nos experimenta e rebenta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A sua falha fica e replica&lt;br /&gt;o seu abalo dura e perdura&lt;br /&gt;nas ondas que voltam e partem de nós&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.myspace.com/sergiogodinhooficial"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sérgio Godinho (Amén!), 2006 - O Big One da verdade&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4325114963869718079-5224613667761335415?l=letrasparaquevosquero.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letrasparaquevosquero.blogspot.com/feeds/5224613667761335415/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4325114963869718079&amp;postID=5224613667761335415&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4325114963869718079/posts/default/5224613667761335415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4325114963869718079/posts/default/5224613667761335415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letrasparaquevosquero.blogspot.com/2008/07/histrias-do-fim-do-amor-captulo-2.html' title='Histórias do fim do Amor - Capítulo 2'/><author><name>A. Pessoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16756424347250269632</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4325114963869718079.post-6269347699080128965</id><published>2008-03-10T23:31:00.005Z</published><updated>2008-03-26T11:16:19.623Z</updated><title type='text'>Hallelujah</title><content type='html'>I heard there was a secret chord&lt;br /&gt;that David played and it pleased the lord&lt;br /&gt;but you don't really care for music do ya&lt;br /&gt;Well it goes like this the fourth the fifth&lt;br /&gt;the minor fall and the major lift&lt;br /&gt;the baffled king composing hallelujah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well your faith was strong but you needed proof&lt;br /&gt;you saw her bathing on the roof&lt;br /&gt;her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you&lt;br /&gt;she tied you to a kitchen chair&lt;br /&gt;she broke your throne and she cut your hair&lt;br /&gt;and from your lips she drew the hallelujah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hallelujah,hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Baby I've been here before&lt;br /&gt;I've seen this room and I've walked this floor&lt;br /&gt;You know, I used to live alone before I knew you&lt;br /&gt;And I've seen your flag on the marble arch&lt;br /&gt;and love is not a victory march&lt;br /&gt;it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hallelujah,hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well there was a time when you let me know&lt;br /&gt;what's really going on below&lt;br /&gt;but now you never show that to me do you&lt;br /&gt;but remember when I moved in you&lt;br /&gt;and the holy dove was moving too&lt;br /&gt;and every breath we drew was hallelujah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well maybe there's a god above&lt;br /&gt;but all I've ever learned from love&lt;br /&gt;was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you&lt;br /&gt;And it's not a cry that you hear at night&lt;br /&gt;it's not somebody who's seen the light&lt;br /&gt;it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leonard Cohen (Jeff Buckley)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS: Babam dois copos de um bom tinto (razoável também serve) e oiçam a versão do Jeff Buckley, de arrepiar...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4325114963869718079-6269347699080128965?l=letrasparaquevosquero.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letrasparaquevosquero.blogspot.com/feeds/6269347699080128965/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4325114963869718079&amp;postID=6269347699080128965&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4325114963869718079/posts/default/6269347699080128965'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4325114963869718079/posts/default/6269347699080128965'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letrasparaquevosquero.blogspot.com/2008/03/hallelujah.html' title='Hallelujah'/><author><name>Gonçalo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13846783786529866465</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4325114963869718079.post-2069268636915946398</id><published>2007-12-18T01:21:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-12-19T22:12:35.921Z</updated><title type='text'>Quando nele julgamos ver a nossa cura..</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="txt_1"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;A cidade está deserta&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="txt_1"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; E alguém escreveu o teu nome em toda a parte&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="txt_1"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Nas casas, nos carros, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="txt_1"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Nas pontes, nas ruas...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="txt_1"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Em todo o lado essa palavra repetida ao expoente da loucura&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="txt_1"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Ora amarga,ora doce&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="txt_1"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Para nos lembrar que o amor é uma doença&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="txt_1"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Quando nele julgamos ver a nossa cura..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="txt_1"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Ouvi Dizer - Ornatos Violeta&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4325114963869718079-2069268636915946398?l=letrasparaquevosquero.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letrasparaquevosquero.blogspot.com/feeds/2069268636915946398/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4325114963869718079&amp;postID=2069268636915946398&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4325114963869718079/posts/default/2069268636915946398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4325114963869718079/posts/default/2069268636915946398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letrasparaquevosquero.blogspot.com/2007/12/quando-nele-julgamos-ver-nossa-cura.html' title='Quando nele julgamos ver a nossa cura..'/><author><name>Jingle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10601893159275507859</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4325114963869718079.post-6881790274493279800</id><published>2007-10-14T22:26:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-05-30T13:39:43.659+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Pedaço de Arte</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;O receio, que eu queria o teu relógio&lt;br /&gt; O receio, quando te pergunto as horas sentado no passeio&lt;br /&gt; Com essa expressão não me consegues enganar,&lt;br /&gt; leio na tua cara tudo o que estás a pensar&lt;br /&gt; Na minha testa vês escrita a palavra perdido,&lt;br /&gt; mas qual de nós os dois será exactamente o mais esclarecido?&lt;br /&gt; Aquilo que a tua mente censura,&lt;br /&gt; é a expressão de uma cultura tentaram abafá-la mas ela perdura&lt;br /&gt; Tudo o que tu vês fazer e depois te limitas a repetir,&lt;br /&gt; sem sequer te dares ao trabalho de parar e reflectir&lt;br /&gt; Tudo o que te ensinam na privada, jaula dourada,&lt;br /&gt; onde por bons rapazes a menina foi violada&lt;br /&gt; Tudo o que a mamã – que a trata por você desde bébé&lt;br /&gt; lhe disse sobre a escumalha, sobre a ralé&lt;br /&gt; Tudo isso é verdadeiro como um O.V.N.I. de Marte.&lt;br /&gt; Enquanto aquilo que eu te trago é um pedaço de arte&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; É estranho mas eu apanho que algo em mim dá-te tesão&lt;br /&gt; e é tão difícil aceitar essa sensação.&lt;br /&gt; Imaginas por momentos como seria,&lt;br /&gt; se te aventurasses a fazê-lo&lt;br /&gt; Quem sabe um dia se conseguisses experimentar sem ninguém dar por nada&lt;br /&gt; Na volta davas uma queca bem suada.&lt;br /&gt; Deixava-te virada estás a delirar, com certeza,&lt;br /&gt; Pensa só numa mistura dessa natureza&lt;br /&gt; Passam–te pela cabeça as ideias mais tontas&lt;br /&gt; Deixa as aventuras para a pocahontas&lt;br /&gt; Afinal de contas nem devias estar sozinha a esta hora&lt;br /&gt; Mas a tua amiga normalmente não se demora&lt;br /&gt; e agora só te apetece dar um grito,&lt;br /&gt; um breve momento passa a ser infinito&lt;br /&gt; vai com calma&lt;br /&gt; Não quero que tenhas nenhum enfarte.&lt;br /&gt; Relaxa e aprecia este pedaço de arte&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu não quero nada de ti, nem de mão beijada,&lt;br /&gt; Fiz-te uma simples pergunta mais nada&lt;br /&gt; O preconceito espelhado na tua face&lt;br /&gt; foi suficiente para que eu desde logo me assustasse&lt;br /&gt; irónico, mas enojas-me, mais do que eu a ti&lt;br /&gt; Bastou-me um segundo e logo, logo percebi&lt;br /&gt; Nasci ontem mas passei a noite acordado&lt;br /&gt; Conheço as pessoas,&lt;br /&gt; de facto sou licenciado numa escola a que nunca terás acesso,&lt;br /&gt; nem todo o dinheiro do mundo chega para o ingresso&lt;br /&gt; Guarda o teu medo e segue lá o teu caminho&lt;br /&gt; só queria saber se ainda estava a dar o mariño&lt;br /&gt; Hoje quero ir ouvir um som doce como uma tarte&lt;br /&gt; e deliciar-me com mais um pedaço de arte.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Pequeno este pedaço mas com tudo o que eu preciso&lt;br /&gt; desde palavras e sons até mesmo um improviso&lt;br /&gt; Puro como água, doce como uma tarte&lt;br /&gt; Faz então a tua porque eu já fiz a minha parte&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Da Weasel - Pedaço de arte&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4325114963869718079-6881790274493279800?l=letrasparaquevosquero.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letrasparaquevosquero.blogspot.com/feeds/6881790274493279800/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4325114963869718079&amp;postID=6881790274493279800&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4325114963869718079/posts/default/6881790274493279800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4325114963869718079/posts/default/6881790274493279800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letrasparaquevosquero.blogspot.com/2007/10/pedao-de-arte.html' title='Pedaço de Arte'/><author><name>A. Pessoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16756424347250269632</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4325114963869718079.post-6032742957043485034</id><published>2007-10-04T11:05:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-10-05T15:58:38.464+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Histórias do fim..ou do começo??..do Amor - Capítulo 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;p  class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Arrisco-me a quase plagiar o título do post anterior do Pessoa.. Confesso que quase cedi à tentação de postar a letra da Boa Sorte Good Luck do Ben Harper com a Vanessa Da Mata (alguém me disse que era a música ideal para acabar uma relação..estilo official soundtrack!)..mas na mesma onda, fiz uma curva (adoro curvas) para outra música que me toca quando toca..na toca..fiquei tão feliz quando soube de alguém que também gosta dela..talvez até mais do que eu, já que completava os engasganços quando me pus a cantarolar a dita..lembro-me de o Tiago Bettencourt, sempre que foi à semana académica de Faro com os Toranja, fazer questão de informar que a canção tinha sido escrita ali mesmo.. em Faro..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;Fogo E Noite&lt;/p&gt;&lt;o:p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Aconteceu...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; e por me teres feito cego&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; recordo o sabor da tua pele&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; e o calor de uma tela&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; que pintámos sem pensar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Ninguém perdeu,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; e enquanto o ar foi cego&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; despidos de passados&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; talvez de lados errados&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; conseguiste me encontrar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Foi dança&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; foram corpos de aço&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; entre trastes de guitarras&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; que esqueceram amarras&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; e se amaram sem mostrar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Foi fogo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; que nos encontrou sozinhos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; queimou a noite em volta&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; presos entre chama à solta&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; presos feitos para soltar...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Estava escrito&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; E o mundo só quis virar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; a página que um dia se fez pesada&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; E o suor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; que escorria no ar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; no calor dos teus lábios&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; inocentes mas sábios...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; no segredo do luar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Não vai acabar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Vamos ser sempre paixão&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Vamos ter sempre o olhar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Onde não há ninguém&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Dei-te mais...! Valeu a pena voar...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Estava escrito&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; E a noite veio acordar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; a guerra de sentidos travada num céu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Nem por um segundo largo a mão&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; da perfeição do teu desenho&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; e do teu gesto no meu...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; foi como um sopro estranho...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; ...e aconteceu...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; És noite em mim,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; És fogo em mim.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; És noite &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:personname productid="em mim.￼￼por Toranja" st="on"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;em mim.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/st1:personname&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;st1:personname productid="em mim.￼￼por Toranja" st="on"&gt;&lt;/st1:personname&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;st1:personname productid="em mim.￼￼por Toranja" st="on"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;por Toranja&lt;/st1:personname&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;album: Esquissos (2003)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4325114963869718079-6032742957043485034?l=letrasparaquevosquero.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letrasparaquevosquero.blogspot.com/feeds/6032742957043485034/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4325114963869718079&amp;postID=6032742957043485034&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4325114963869718079/posts/default/6032742957043485034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4325114963869718079/posts/default/6032742957043485034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letrasparaquevosquero.blogspot.com/2007/10/histrias-do-fimou-do-comeodo-amor_04.html' title='Histórias do fim..ou do começo??..do Amor - Capítulo 1'/><author><name>Jingle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10601893159275507859</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4325114963869718079.post-2793450412907735091</id><published>2007-09-14T18:21:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2007-09-14T18:26:58.992+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Histórias do fim do Amor - Capítulo 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt;Sheets of empty canvas, untouched sheets of clay&lt;br /&gt;Were laid spread out before me as her body once did.&lt;br /&gt;All five horizons revolved around her soul as the earth to the sun&lt;br /&gt;Now the air I tasted and breathed has taken a turn&lt;br /&gt;And all I taught her was everything&lt;br /&gt;I know she gave me all that she wore&lt;br /&gt;And now my bitter hands chafe beneath the clouds&lt;br /&gt;Of what was everything.&lt;br /&gt;The pictures have all been washed in black,&lt;br /&gt;tattooed everything...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I take a walk outside&lt;br /&gt;I'm surrounded by some kids at play&lt;br /&gt;I can feel their laughter, so why do I sear?&lt;br /&gt;And twisted thoughts that spin round my head&lt;br /&gt;I'm spinning, oh, I'm spinning&lt;br /&gt;How quick the sun can drop away&lt;br /&gt;And now my bitter hands cradle broken glass&lt;br /&gt;Of what was everything?&lt;br /&gt;All the pictures have all been washed in black, tattooed everything&lt;br /&gt;All the love gone bad turned my world to black&lt;br /&gt;Tattooed all I see, all that I am, all I'll be...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know someday you'll have a beautiful life,&lt;br /&gt;I know you'll be a sun in somebody else's sky, but why&lt;br /&gt;Why, why can't it be, why can't it be mine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eddie Vedder, 1990&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" href="http://br.youtube.com/watch?v=CoG897LvAAI"&gt;Pearl Jam - Black&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4325114963869718079-2793450412907735091?l=letrasparaquevosquero.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letrasparaquevosquero.blogspot.com/feeds/2793450412907735091/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4325114963869718079&amp;postID=2793450412907735091&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4325114963869718079/posts/default/2793450412907735091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4325114963869718079/posts/default/2793450412907735091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letrasparaquevosquero.blogspot.com/2007/09/sheets-of-empty-canvas-untouched-sheets.html' title='Histórias do fim do Amor - Capítulo 1'/><author><name>A. Pessoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16756424347250269632</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4325114963869718079.post-817617956408435057</id><published>2007-08-15T19:34:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-08-15T20:02:15.078+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Child in Time</title><content type='html'>Sweet child in time, you'll see the line&lt;br /&gt;The line that's drawn between  good and bad&lt;br /&gt;See the blind man  shooting at the world&lt;br /&gt;Bullets flying taking toll&lt;br /&gt;If you've been bad - Oh Lord I bet you have&lt;br /&gt;And you've not been hit by flying lead&lt;br /&gt;You'd better close your eyes and bow your head&lt;br /&gt;Wait for the ricochet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deep Purple 1970&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4325114963869718079-817617956408435057?l=letrasparaquevosquero.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letrasparaquevosquero.blogspot.com/feeds/817617956408435057/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4325114963869718079&amp;postID=817617956408435057&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4325114963869718079/posts/default/817617956408435057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4325114963869718079/posts/default/817617956408435057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letrasparaquevosquero.blogspot.com/2007/08/child-in-time.html' title='Child in Time'/><author><name>Luciana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00806153817941637636</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4325114963869718079.post-8409074670128004957</id><published>2007-07-29T15:19:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-07-29T15:30:19.786+01:00</updated><title type='text'>A Perfect Sonnet</title><content type='html'>Lately I've been wishing I had one desire&lt;br /&gt;something that would make me never want another&lt;br /&gt;something that would make it so that nothing matters&lt;br /&gt;all would be clear then&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but I guess i'll have to settle for a few brief moments&lt;br /&gt;and watch it all dissolve into a single second&lt;br /&gt;try to write it down into a perfect sonnet&lt;br /&gt;or one foolish line&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'cause that's all that you'll get so you'll have to accept&lt;br /&gt;you are here then you're gone&lt;br /&gt;but i believe that lovers should be tied together&lt;br /&gt;thrown into the ocean in the worst of weather&lt;br /&gt;left there to drown left there to drown&lt;br /&gt;in their innocence&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but as for me i'm coming to the final chapter&lt;br /&gt;i read all of the pages and there's still no answer&lt;br /&gt;only all that was before i know must soon come after&lt;br /&gt;that's the only way it can be&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so I stand in the sun&lt;br /&gt;and I breathe with my lungs&lt;br /&gt;trying to spare me the weight of the truth&lt;br /&gt;saying everything you've ever seen was just a mirror&lt;br /&gt;spent your whole life sweating in an endless fever&lt;br /&gt;now you're laying in a bathtub full of freezing water&lt;br /&gt;wishing you were a ghost&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but once you knew a girl and you named her lover&lt;br /&gt;danced with her in kitchens through the greenest summer&lt;br /&gt;autumn came, she disappeared&lt;br /&gt;you can't remember where she said she was going to&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but you know that she is gone 'cause she left you a song&lt;br /&gt;that you don't want to sing&lt;br /&gt;singing I believe that lovers should be chained together&lt;br /&gt;thrown into a fire with their songs and letters&lt;br /&gt;left there to burnl&lt;br /&gt;eft there to burn&lt;br /&gt;in their arrogance&lt;br /&gt;but as for me i'm coming to my final failure&lt;br /&gt;killed myself with changes trying to make things better&lt;br /&gt;ended up becoming something other than what I had planned to be&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;now i believe that lovers should be draped in flowers&lt;br /&gt;and layed entwined together on a bed of clover&lt;br /&gt;left there to sleep&lt;br /&gt;left there to dream of their happiness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Conor O'berst&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4325114963869718079-8409074670128004957?l=letrasparaquevosquero.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letrasparaquevosquero.blogspot.com/feeds/8409074670128004957/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4325114963869718079&amp;postID=8409074670128004957&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4325114963869718079/posts/default/8409074670128004957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4325114963869718079/posts/default/8409074670128004957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letrasparaquevosquero.blogspot.com/2007/07/perfect-sonnet.html' title='A Perfect Sonnet'/><author><name>Gonçalo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13846783786529866465</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4325114963869718079.post-8833432318835428832</id><published>2007-07-14T18:49:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-07-14T19:44:59.330+01:00</updated><title type='text'>letras</title><content type='html'>..do alfabeto, de um código, letras de mais ou de menos letrado, talvez letras com valor económico, da faculdade de letras ou mesmo da sopa de massinha em forma de letras (que redunda nas letras do alfabeto). Mas podemos orientar-nos também para letras que nos poderão dizer mais do que qualquer uma das outras, poemas e prosas musicadas nas canções que ouvimos e ousamos cantarolar, que sem esforço entram e permanecem em nós. As &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;lyrics &lt;/span&gt;que procuramos no &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Google &lt;/span&gt;porque queremos conhecer a moldura que encaixa aquele verso intenso que nos toca, com que nos identificamos, que nos lembra que não estamos sozinhos, apesar de sermos inéditos (??).. Paradoxos, filosofias e psicologias baratas à parte, cá vai disto:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Letra: Sérgio Godinho&lt;br /&gt;Música: Sérgio Godinho&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;1981&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;  Com um Brilhozinho nos Olhos &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Com um brilhozinho nos olhos&lt;br /&gt;e a saia rodada&lt;br /&gt;escancaraste a porta do bar&lt;br /&gt;trazias o cabelo aos ombros&lt;br /&gt;passeando de cá para lá&lt;br /&gt;como as ondas do mar.&lt;br /&gt;Conheço tão bem esses olhos&lt;br /&gt;e nunca me enganam,&lt;br /&gt;o que é que aconteceu, diz lá&lt;br /&gt;é que hoje fiz um amigo&lt;br /&gt;e coisa mais preciosa&lt;br /&gt;no mundo não há.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Com um brilhozinho nos olhos&lt;br /&gt;metemos o carro&lt;br /&gt;muito à frente, muito à frente dos bois&lt;br /&gt;ou seja, fizemos promessas&lt;br /&gt;trocamos retratos&lt;br /&gt;trocamos projectos os dois&lt;br /&gt;trocamos de roupa, trocamos de corpo,&lt;br /&gt;trocamos de beijos, tão bom, é tão bom&lt;br /&gt;e com um brilhozinho nos olhos&lt;br /&gt;tocamos guitarra&lt;br /&gt;p'lo menos a julgar pelo som&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E que é que foi que ele disse?&lt;br /&gt;Hoje soube-me a pouco.&lt;br /&gt;passa aí mais um bocadinho&lt;br /&gt;que estou quase a ficar louco&lt;br /&gt;Hoje soube-me a tanto&lt;br /&gt;portanto,&lt;br /&gt;Hoje soube-me a pouco&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Com um brilhozinho nos olhos&lt;br /&gt;corremos os estores&lt;br /&gt;pusemos a rádio no "on"&lt;br /&gt;acendemos a já costumeira&lt;br /&gt;velinha de igreja&lt;br /&gt;pusemos no "off" o telefone&lt;br /&gt;e olha, não dá p'ra contar&lt;br /&gt;mas sei que tu sabes&lt;br /&gt;daquilo que sabes que eu sei&lt;br /&gt;e com um brilhozinho nos olhos&lt;br /&gt;ficamos parados&lt;br /&gt;depois do que não te contei&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Com um brilhozinho nos olhos&lt;br /&gt;dissemos, sei lá&lt;br /&gt;o que nos passou pela tola [o que nos passou pelo goto]&lt;br /&gt;do estilo és o "number one"&lt;br /&gt;dou-te vinte valores&lt;br /&gt;és um treze no totobola [és o seis do meu totoloto]&lt;br /&gt;e às duas por três&lt;br /&gt;bebemos um copo&lt;br /&gt;fizemos o quatro e pintámos o sete&lt;br /&gt;e com um brilhozinho nos olhos&lt;br /&gt;ficamos imóveis&lt;br /&gt;a dar uma de "tête a tête"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E que é que foi que ele disse?&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E com um brilhozinho nos olhos&lt;br /&gt;tentamos saber&lt;br /&gt;para lá do que muito se amou&lt;br /&gt;quem éramos nós&lt;br /&gt;quem queríamos ser&lt;br /&gt;e quais as esperanças&lt;br /&gt;que a vida roubou&lt;br /&gt;e olhei-o de longe&lt;br /&gt;e mirei-o de perto&lt;br /&gt;que quem não vê caras&lt;br /&gt;não vê corações&lt;br /&gt;com um brilhozinho nos olhos&lt;br /&gt;guardei um amigo&lt;br /&gt;que é coisa que vale milhões.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E que é que foi que ele disse?&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS- enaaaaa!! =)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4325114963869718079-8833432318835428832?l=letrasparaquevosquero.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letrasparaquevosquero.blogspot.com/feeds/8833432318835428832/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4325114963869718079&amp;postID=8833432318835428832&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4325114963869718079/posts/default/8833432318835428832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4325114963869718079/posts/default/8833432318835428832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letrasparaquevosquero.blogspot.com/2007/07/letras.html' title='letras'/><author><name>Jingle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10601893159275507859</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
