Pint-Sized Victory
Looks like you'll still be able to order pints in merry-old England. That's good, because "Gimme a half-litre of lager" doesn't exactly roll of the tongue.
It's what you call the "cutting edge" if you think the term "cutting edge" isn't "cutting edge" anymore. Of course, the term "bleeding edge" isn't "cutting edge" anymore, either. If confused, just say "new."
A winters day
In a deep and dark december;
I am alone,
Gazing from my window to the streets below
On a freshly fallen silent shroud of snow.
I am a rock,
I am an island.
I've built walls,
A fortress deep and mighty,
That none may penetrate.
I have no need of friendship; friendship causes pain.
Its laughter and its loving I disdain.
I am a rock,
I am an island.
Don't talk of love,
But Ive heard the words before;
Its sleeping in my memory.
I wont disturb the slumber of feelings that have died.
If I never loved I never would have cried.
I am a rock,
I am an island.
I have my books
And my poetry to protect me;
I am shielded in my armor,
Hiding in my room, safe within my womb.
I touch no one and no one touches me.
I am a rock,
I am an island.
And a rock feels no pain;
And an island never cries.