T'as pas tout lu les textes de Lou Reed: "Dirty Boulevard"

Pedro lives out of the Wilshire Hotel He looks out a window without glass
The walls are made of cardboard, newspapers on his feet / His father beats him 'cause he's too tired to beg / He's got 9 brothers and sisters, they're brought up on their knees / It's hard to run when a coat hanger beats you on the things / Pedro dreams of being older and killing the old man / but that's a slim chance he's going to the boulevard
He's going to end up, on the dirty boulevard /He's going out, to the dirty boulevard /He's going down, to the dirty boulevard
This room cost 2,000 dollars a month, you can believe it man it's true somewhere a landlord's laughing till he wets his pants / No one here dreams of being a doctor or a lawyer or anything / they dream of dealing on the dirty boulevard
Give me your hungry, your tired your poor I'll piss on 'em / That's what the Statue of Bigotry says / Your poor huddled masses, let's club 'em to death and get it over with and just dump 'em on the boulevard
Going to end up, on the dirty boulevard / Going out, to the dirty boulevard He's going down, on the dirty boulevard Going out
Outside it's a bright night, there's an opera at Lincoln Center / Movie stars arrive by limousine / The klieg lights shoot up over the skyline of Manhattan But the lights are out on the mean streets
A small kid stands by the Lincoln Tunnel / He's selling plastic roses for a buck The traffic's backed up to 39th street
The TV Whores are calling the Cops out for a Suck
And back at the Wilshire, Pedro sits there dreaming / He's found a book on Magic in a garbage can / He looks at the pictures and stares at the cracked ceiling / "At the count of 3" he says, "I hope I can disappear"
And fly fly away, from this dirty boulevard
I want to fly, from dirty boulevard / I want to fly, from dirty boulevard / I want to fly, fly, fly, fly, from dirty boulevard
I want to fly away / I want to fly / Fly, fly away / I want to fly / Fly, fly away Fly, fly, fly / Fly, fly away
I want fly away

3 commentaires:

Fièvre de Monarc' a dit…

Non pas le moment? Quel testament!

This is no time for celebration
This is no time for shaking hands
This is no time for backslapping
This is no time for marching bands

This is no time for optimism
This is no time for endless thought
This is no time for my country right or wrong
Remember what that brought
There is no time

This is no time for congratulations
This is no time to turn your back
This is no time for circumlocution
This is no time for learned speech

This is no time to count your blessings
This is no time for private gain
This is the time to put up or shut up
It won't come back this way again
There is no time

This is no time to swallow anger
This is no time to ignore hate
This is no time to be acting frivolous
Because the time is getting late

This is no time for private vendettas
This is no time to not know who you are
Self knowledge is a dangerous thing
The freedom of who you are

This is no time to ignore warnings
This is no time to clear the plate
Let's not be sorry after the fact
And let the past become our fate
There is no time

This is no time to turn away and drink
Or smoke some vials of crack
This is a time to gather force
And take dead aim and attack

This is no time for celebration
This is no time for saluting flags
This is no time for inner searchings
The future is at hand

This is no time for phony rhetoric
This is no time for political speech
This is a time for action
Because the future's within reach

This is the time
Because there is no time

Unknown a dit…

Encore un grand pote parti musiquer dans les nuages ! Merci Fredo.






Fièvre de Monarc' a dit…

Salut Sakura! Hé oui...

ps: Merci de tes anciens messages et de ton sudiste soutien, j'ai récupéré une bécane et peut reprendre enfin! Bises du frdo