Strategic Planner: George Nicolae Client Service Director: Afrodita Blasius Creative Director: Luca Bulacu Copywriter: Roxana Sava Art Director: Adina Plugaru Account Executive: Bogdan Ivascu
Senior Copywriter @ McCann Are you strongly passionate for advertising?Can you develop insanely creative concepts into unforgettable copy?Is writing... [detalii]
Art Director @ McCann We are looking for someone with the right combination of strategic thinking and artistic skills... [detalii]
Copywriter @ McCann Can you make people laugh, cry or go “uuu… nice” just by writing something?Are you... [detalii]
Comentarii
Fiti atenti la alternanta intre ce se spune in romana si versurile melodiei in engleza:))))
"iti masuram cu grija fiecare zambet" si imediat " And climbing to the top,
Will throw myself off" :)))
s-au bazat pe necunoasterea melodiei sau a limbii engleze ... :)))
Cu ganduri la sinucidere.... cu parintii care mor pe rand... te duce cu gandul la moarte... nici gand la FERICIRE, zambet, bucurie :))))
If I'm not feeling any less sour
I promised myself to treat myself
And visit a nearby tower,
And climbing to the top,
Will throw myself off
In an effort to make it clear to who
Ever what it's like when your shattered
Left standing in the lurch, at a church
Where people 're saying,
"My God that's tough, she stood him up!
No point in us remaining.
May as well go home."
As I did on my own,
Alone again, naturally
To think that only yesterday,
I was cheerful, bright and gay,
Looking forward to, but who wouldn't do,
The role I was about to play
But as if to knock me down,
Reality came around
And without so much as a mere touch,
Cut me into little pieces
Leaving me to doubt,
All about God and His mercy
For if He really does exist
Why did He desert me
In my hour of need?
I truly am indeed,
Alone again, naturally
It seems to me that
There are more hearts
Broken in the world
That can't be mended
Left unattended
What do we do? What do we do?
(instrumental break)
Now looking back over the years,
And what ever else that appears
I remember I cried when my father died
Never wishing to have cried the tears
And at sixty-five years old,
My mother, God rest her soul,
Couldn't understand, why the only man
She had ever loved had been taken
Leaving her to start with a heart
So badly broken
Despite encouragement from me
No words were ever spoken
And when she passed away
I cried and cried all day
Alone again, naturally
Alone again, naturally