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Un verso al giorno


Fake Plastic Man

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In the aeroplane over the sea- Neutral milk hotel

And one day we will die and our ashes will fly from the aeroplane over the sea,

But for now we are young let us lay in the sun,

And count every beautiful thing we can see,

Love to be in the arms of all I’m keeping here with me.

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Ladies, let me tell you about myself

I got a dick for a brain

And my brain is gonna sell my ass to you

Now I'm OK, but in time I'll find I'm stuck

'Cause she wants love, and I still want to fuck

Now that I'm ashamed, it burns

:D:D

To understand my little self

:lol:

The Afghan Whigs - Be Sweet "Gentlemen"

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  • 2 weeks later...

GEORGE HARRISON - Beware of Darkness (1969)

Watch out now, take care

Beware of falling swingers

Dropping all around you

The pain that often mingles

In your fingertips

Beware of darkness

Watch out now, take care

Beware of the thoughts that linger

Winding up inside your head

The hopelessness around you

In the dead of night

Beware of sadness

It can hit you

It can hurt you

Make you sore and what is more

That is not what you are here for

Watch out now, take care

Beware of soft shoe shufflers

Dancing down the sidewalks

As each unconscious sufferer

Wanders aimlessly

Beware of maya

Watch out now, take care

Beware of greedy leaders

They take you where you should not go

While weeping atlas cedars

They just want to grow, grow and grow

Beware of darkness

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qualcuno mi spiega come mai oggi che avevo una maglietta di battiato un mio coetaneo mi dice: ma battiato, quel battiato lì, tipo baglioni e cocciante?

:ph34r:  :ph34r:  :ph34r:  :ph34r:  :ph34r:  :ph34r:

perchè anche lui, in un certo periodo della sua carriera, per vendere al grande pubblico ha fatto roba simile a quelli lì. certo con più stile, però...

ovvio che la gente lo ricorda e lo conosce per quelle cose lì, mica per pollution ;)

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qualcuno mi spiega come mai oggi che avevo una maglietta di battiato un mio coetaneo mi dice: ma battiato, quel battiato lì, tipo baglioni e cocciante?

a molte mamme piaciono contemporaneamente "la cura" del Francuzzo nazionale, "margherita" di Cocciante e "poster" di Baglioni... esiste gente che li mette sullo stesso piano...

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1. David Jay

She blamed him for stoking up controversy

In a dreamworld

It's a long way down from Heaven's gate

In the absence of a jury

The case continues

White lies

Seal his bitter fate

The case continues

2. Peter Murphy

Take a fish

And a potato

Hold the fish

And the potato

In your hand

In your hand

Put the potato

In the fish

Make it digest it

Smash it up

Smash it up

Smash it up

Smash it up

This is how you make fishcakes

This is how one makes fishcakes

Smash it up

Poke it up

Fishcakes

Fishcakes

Fishcakes

Fishcakes

Put it down the fish

Put it down the fish

Throw it against the wall

Stamp on the fish

Fishcakes

Fishcakes

Fishcakes

Fishcakes

Throw it on the wall

Smash it on the wall

Throw it on the wall

Smash it on the wall

Fishcakes

Fishcakes

3. Kevin Haskins

Do you always keep drumsticks on the piano?

Take it easy

Avoid risks

And if possible, stay at home

Not only is trouble very difficult

But your are advised of staying off ladders

For there may be the danger of performance

There is a lot of stress and strain

Both at work, and at home

But we know

Tomorrow is another day

4. Daniel Ash

Naturally enough

The others have been doing their utmost to match this performance

This is something people get when they continually drink whiskey

I can't drink

I hardly eat these days

Ok, that's fine

traccia 14 di Mask dove i Bauhaus fanno il gioco delle parti

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I TALK TO THE WIND

Said the straight man to the late man

Where have you been

I've been here and I've been there

And I've been in between.

I talk to the wind

My words are all carried away

I talk to the wind

The wind does not hear

The wind cannot hear.

I'm on the outside looking inside

What do I see

Much confusion, disillusion

All around me.

You don't possess me

Don't impress me

Just upset my mind

Can't instruct me or conduct me

Just use up my time

I talk to the wind

My words are all carried away

I talk to the wind

The wind does not hear

The wind cannot hear.

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Life is but a dream

Life is but a dream

Life is but a dream

I make the air fall apart

Around me

Now as the petals are no more

A corroding, shrinking stalk remains

Bereft of his blooms

And the ultimate cruelty of loves pinions

Beset his appearance

Beset his appearance

No king could replenish his state

Now browning, sinking, dying

A thousand deaths

A thousand deaths

A thousand deaths

Terry sat up

And hugged the green army surplus bag

Around his skinny waist

It was cold

And the person beside him had faded badly

Legs apart his eyes lit up

THE SKY'S GONE OUT - THE SKY, THE SKY...

THE SKY'S GONE OUT

The sky's gone out!

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IL DOTTOR SCHWEITZER

gettava pesci vivi a pellicani famelici.

Sono vita anche i pesci fu rilevato, ma

di gerarchia inferiore.

A quale gerarchia apparteniamo noi

e in quali fauci...? Qui tacque il teologo

e si asciugò il sudore.

Eugenio Montale :bong:

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:P ...lo so, ho sbagliato, me ne sono accorto dopo averlo mandato!! è che avevo letto 'un verso al giorno, o un testo intero'! soltanto dopo mi sono reso conto che rientrava in musica!! :lol:

oh che ne so, al massimo posso provare a musicarlo...più o meno viene 'na cosa alla Vinicio Capossela!!!! :D

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:P ...lo so, ho sbagliato, me ne sono accorto dopo averlo mandato!! è che avevo letto 'un verso al giorno, o un testo intero'! soltanto dopo mi sono reso conto che rientrava in musica!! :lol:

oh che ne so, al massimo posso provare a musicarlo...più o meno viene 'na cosa alla Vinicio Capossela!!!! :D

provaci :lol: non si sa mai...

comunque replico con:

I've got a little black book with my poems in

I've got a bag with a toothbrush and a comb in

When I'm a good dog they sometimes throw me a bone in

(Pink Floyd - Nobody home)

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And I am a writer,

writer of fictions,

I am the heart that you call home.

And I've written pages upon pages

trying to rid you from my bones.

I am writer,

I am all that you have hoped of.

And I've written pages upon pages

trying to rid you from my bones,

my bones, my bones.

And if you don't love me, let me go

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Il mio naso sulle tue palpebre

(serrande alzate)

che non sanno se chiudere

la bottega in cui le fate

hanno lo sguardo immoto

sul dormire che non giunge.

Il tuo fiato un poco affannoso,

si disperde là

dove vagheggi chissà

quale fantasia perduta

o fiaba, raccontata

per avere il tuo sonno.

Cristiano Godano

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