miércoles, 9 de diciembre de 2015

Lithium

I'm so happy 'cause today
I've found my friends ...
They're in my head
I'm so ugly, but that's okay, 'cause so are you ...
We've broken our mirrors [Alt: We broke our mirrors]
Sunday morning is everyday for all I care ...
And I'm not scared
Light my candles, in a daze
'Cause I've found god

Yeah, yeah, yeah [6x]

I'm so lonely, but that's okay, I shaved my head ...
And I'm not sad
And just maybe I'm to blame for all I've heard ...
But I'm not sure
I'm so excited, I can't wait to meet you there ...
But I don't care
I'm so horny, but that's okay ...
My will is good

Yeah, yeah, yeah [6x]

[2x]
I like it - I'm not gonna crack
I miss you - I'm not gonna crack
I love you - I'm not gonna crack
I killed you - I'm not gonna crack

I'm so happy 'cause today
I've found my friends ...
They're in my head
I'm so ugly, but that's okay, 'cause so are you ...
We've broken our mirrors [Alt: We broke our mirrors]
Sunday morning is everyday for all I care ...
And I'm not scared
Light my candles in a daze ...
'Cause I've found god

Yeah, yeah, yeah [6x]

[2x]
I like it - I'm not gonna crack
I miss you - I'm not gonna crack
I love you - I'm not gonna crack
I killed you - I'm not gonna crack

Fake plastic trees


Her green plastic watering can
For her fake Chinese rubber plant
In the fake plastic earth
That she bought from a rubber man
In a town full of rubber plans
To get rid of itself

It wears her out, it wears her out
It wears her out, it wears her out

She lives with a broken man
A cracked polystyrene man
Who just crumbles and burns
He used to do surgery
For girls in the eighties
But gravity always wins

It wears him out, it wears him out
It wears him out, it wears him out

She looks like the real thing
She tastes like the real thing
My fake plastic love
But I can't help the feeling
I could blow through the ceiling
If I just turn and run

It wears me out, it wears me out
It wears me out, it wears me out

If I could be who you wanted
If I could be who you wanted all the time

All the time...
All the time...

En las fauces de una fiera llamada vida...

La vida es una vieja gorda que juega damas chinas con la muerte, bebe cocteles exóticos y deja que la muerte le meta la mano debajo del vestido. No es lisonjera ni condescendiente, se burla de nosotros y nos rige bajo las leyes de un tal Murphy.

En fin, ésta pretende ser la crónica del deambular de un ente por los rollos de grasa de la gran vieja gorda. A veces con paseos por sus fauces amén de ser masticados como carne corriosa y deglutidos como un bocado suculento... Con tal de no terminar siendo parte de sus flatulencias musicales...

Sean bienvenidos a este bufete, donde todos compartimos lugar en la mesa, sin que necesariamente estemos sentados a disfrutar de él...

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