Puto Mozart de mierda, con esa peluca de maricona... ¿Cómo vas a saber discernir que es la buena música?.... a ver si aprendes diferenciare lo que es sonido y lo que es ruido.... arde en el infierno sodomizado por claves de Sol con tus putas sinfonias, estaciones y tus mierdas.
He oido a mi nuevo mesías... soy tu siervo.
4 comentarios:
Este temazo debía sin duda ser la música de fondo que acompañó al Big Bang, el son al que los dioses primigenios se agitaban poseídos, mientras daban forma al Universo.
Cuando el Gran Humungus palme, cuando las moscas empiecen a poner moscas en mis ojos y el sol del páramo seque mi boca para siempre, sé que ésta será la banda sonora que me acompañe al Valhalla, rodeado de burras mecánicas rubias de tetas como el búnker de Adolf.
Sargento, gracias por hacerme llorar...
Chiquitam chiquititam tam tam
que tumbam bam que tumbam que tepetepe
tambambam que tumbam que pim.
Chiquitam chiquititam tam tam
que tumbam bam que tumbam que tepetepe
tambambam que tumbam que pim.
Chiquitam chiquititam tam tam
que tumbam bam que tumbam que tepetepe
tambambam que tumbam que pim.
Extasi extano.
Extasi extano.
Extasi extano.
Extasi extano.
Chiquitam chiquititam tam tam
que tumbam bam que tumbam que tepetepe
tambambam que tumbam que pim.
Chiquitam chiquititam tam tam
que tumbam bam que tumbam que tepetepe
tambambam que tumbam que pim.
Si la conoces te gustará
porque es la bomba que va a estallar.
No tiene pegas porque es genial
Así me gusta a mí.
Así me gusta a mí.
Así me gusta a mí.
Así me gusta a mí.
Extasi extano.
Extasi extano.
Extasi extano.
Exta me gusta, me la como yo.
Si la conoces te gustará
porque es la bomba que va a estallar.
No tiene pegas porque es genial
Así me gusta a mí.
Así me gusta a mí.
Así me gusta a mí.
Así me gusta a mí.
Extasi extano.
Extasi extano.
Extasi extano.
Extasi extano.
Extasi extano.
Extasi extano.
Extasi extano.
Extasi extano.
COYOTE
No regrets Coyote
We just come from such different sets of circunstance
I'm up all nigt in the studios
And yau're up early on your ranch
You’ll be brushing out a brood mare's tail
While the sun is ascending
And I’ll jus be getting home with my reel to reel
There’s no comprehending
Just how close to the bone and the skin and the eyes
And the lips you can get
And still feel so alone
And still feel related
Like station in some relay
You’re not a hit and run driver no, no
Racing away
You just picke up a hitcher
A prisoner of the white lines on the freeway
We saw a farm house burning down
In the middle of nowhere
In the middle of the niht
And we roled riht past that tragedy
Till we turned into some roud house lights
Were a local band was playing
Locals were up kicking and shaking on the floor
And the next thin I know
That Coyote’s at my door
He pins me in a corner and he won’t take “No!”
He drags me out on the dance foor
And we’re dancing close and slow
Naw he’s got a woman at home
He’s goy another woman daon the hall
He seems to want me enyway
Way’d you have to get so drunk
And lead me on that way
You jus picked up a hitcher
A prisioner of the wite lines on the freeway
I look a Coyote right in the face
On the road to Baljennie near my old home town
He went running thru thewhisker wheat
Chasing some prize down
And a hawk was playing with him
Coyote was jumping straiht up and making passes
He had those same eyes-jus like yours.
Under your dark glasses
Provately proving the public rooms
And peeking thru keyholes in numbered doors
Were the playeres lick their wounds
And take their temporary lovers
And their pills pwders to get themthru this passion play
No regrets, Coyote
I just get off up aways
You just picked up a hitcher
A prisioner of the white lines on the freeway
Coyote is in the coffee shop
He’s staring a hole in his scrambled eggs
He picks up my scent on his fingers
While he’s watching the waitresses’legs
He’s too far from the Bay of Fundy
From Appaloosas and eagles and tides
And the air conditioned cibicles
And the carbon ribbon rides
Are spelling it out so clear
Either he’s going to have to stand and fight
Or take off out of here
I tried to run away mayself
To runaway and wrestel with my ego
And with this flame
Yoy put here in this Eskimo
In this hitcher
In this prisoner
Of the fine white lines
Of the white lines on the free, free way
Joni Mitchell Hegira
La virgen puta... Lo del coyote de arriba me ha dejao con el culo torcido.
¡Espíritu anónimo colgador de letras bizarras en mi blog: MANIFIÉSTATE!
¡Dame más!
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