martes, enero 10, 2006

Encajando

si se trata de encajar
es mi voluntad la que se muda
¿por que esa manía de ser normal?
que pinche complejo de aguja.

la sociedad se cambia muchas veces
pero los esencial siempre se mantiene
para ser reconocido entre la gente
o los dañas, los asustas, o te mueres.

no significa que esté mal
eso de las reglas, y quehaceres
la sangre sirve pa educar
a una sociedad pre-adolecente

de tin marin, lo pienso bien
a quien voltearle a hechar la culpa
lo de "a mi nadie me comprende"
siempre ha sido buena excusa

nunca es facil enfrentar
el coraje es un reflejo
todos los defectos de una sociedad
se aprecian mejor frente al espejo

lunes, enero 09, 2006

piano man


It’s nine o’clock on a saturday
The regular crowd shuffles in
There’s an old man sitting next to me
Makin’ love to his tonic and gin

He says, son, can you play me a memory?
I’m not really sure how it goes
But it’s sad and it’s sweet and I knew it complete
When I wore a younger man’s clothes

La la la, de de da
La la, de de da da da

Chorus:
Sing us a song, you’re the piano man
Sing us a song tonight
Well, we’re all in the mood for a melody
And you’ve got us feelin’ alright

Now john at the bar is a friend of mine
He gets me my drinks for free
And he’s quick with a joke or to light up your smoke
But there’s someplace that he’d rather be
He says, bill, I believe this is killing me.
As the smile ran away from his face
Well I’m sure that I could be a movie star
If I could get out of this place

Oh, la la la, de de da
La la, de de da da da

Now paul is a real estate novelist
Who never had time for a wife
And he’s talkin’ with davy who’s still in the navy
And probably will be for life

And the waitress is practicing politics
As the businessmen slowly get stoned
Yes, they’re sharing a drink they call loneliness
But it’s better than drinkin’ alone

Chorus

It’s a pretty good crowd for a saturday
And the manager gives me a smile
’cause he knows that it’s me they’ve been comin’ to see
To forget about life for a while
And the piano, it sounds like a carnival
And the microphone smells like a beer
And they sit at the bar and put bread in my jar
And say, man, what are you doin’ here?

Oh, la la la, de de da
La la, de de da da da

Chorus