- published: 22 Sep 2014
- views: 364030
Hillcrest is the name of several communities, schools and other places.
(by state then city)
Actors: Marco Tulli (actor), Robert Vaughn (actor), Gianni Musy (actor), Derek Francis (actor), Tim Brooke-Taylor (actor), John Stacy (actor), David Niven (actor), Fortunato Arena (actor), Marne Maitland (actor), John Cleese (actor), Graham Chapman (actor), Pino Ferrara (actor), Erik Chitty (actor), Denis Norden (writer), Virna Lisi (actress),
Plot: Bolt, a British linguist, develops a universal language, so he's a sudden sensation and receives a Nobel prize. An ambitious diplomat, capitalizing on Bolt's celebrity, arranges for the U.S. to commission a statue for a London square to honor Bolt's achievement. Bolt's Italian wife, a renowned artist, sculpts an 18-foot nude of Bolt. In a pique, because he's neglected her for years to do his work, she gives the statue a spectacular phallus, telling Bolt that he wasn't its model. Thinking he's a cuckold, Bolt goes on a jealous search for a man matching the statue. The diplomat, too, wants changes in the statue to protect his conservative image. Can art and love reconcile?
Keywords: extramarital-affair, female-nudity, independent-film, italian-woman, language, linguist, london-england, nobel-prize, nudity, photo-boothThis town and all of its disciples,
have their talons buried in my neck,
Oh how they perched upon these trees
like vines constricting, muting our dreams
Tempting us for a one night stand,
with the worst intentions to trap us all over again,
we could have foiled their master plan,
but we're so weak we never gave ourselves the chance.
The scarecrows are acting as shadows transmitting the memories
to which we're shackled, making it that much harder to push out tonight.
This towns growing over me, soon enough I won't be able to see
Deaths pail flag sure as hell advanced here,
it devoured what's left of me,
leaving a tourist in a city, I once called my home.
Struggling we move, lead footed to the coast, to dose ourselves,
in sin tonight, to succeed in nothing but to drown,
we where thankful to be safely underground
No matter how many times I leave
I come crawling back to the very same blood covered poetry.
From here on in miscalculated metronomes
will form the beats of our broken hearts and homes