[originale 13/9/2012]
…dalla suite dell’ottavo piano in una grigia mattina di Cracovia, si medita con Piotr e Tomek sui destini incrociati di due popoli che negli ultimi cento anni (almeno) hanno avuto forti problemi di identità: Italia e Polonia (Polska). Il carissimo amico Daniele, esperto di preclara fama in storia dell’amministrazione e degli eventi a cavallo dell’8 settembre 1943, la prima volta che gli raccontai che avevo dei colleghi polacchi nel mio nuovo impiego mi disse: “grandissimo! I polacchi furono tra i più impegnati a Monte Cassino”. Non lo sapevo. Ora lo so. E il saperlo cambia! …sapevatelo anche voi su branobag channel: http://www.dalvolturnoacassino.it/asp/doc.asp?id=038
Il tutto sul sottofondo di Beck….o dal vivo:
o in studio –
Butane in my veins so I’m out to cut the junkie
With the plastic eyeballs, spray paint the vegetables
Dog food stalls with the beefcake pantyhose
Kill the headlights and put it in neutral
Stock car flamin’ with a loser and the cruise control
Baby’s in Reno with the vitamin D
Got a couple of couches sleep on the love seat
Someone keeps sayin I’m insane to complain
About a shotgun wedding and a stain on my shirt
Don’t believe everything that you breathe
You get a parking violation and a maggot on your sleeve
So shave your face with some mace in the dark
Savin’ all your food stamps and burnin’ down the trailer park
Yo, cut it.
Soy un perdedor
I’m a loser baby, so why don’t you kill me?
(Double-barrel buckshot)
Soy un perdidor
I’m a loser baby, so why don’t you kill me?
[ Lyrics from: http://www.lyricsfreak.com/b/beck/loser_20015293.html ]
Forces of evil in a bozo nightmare
Banned all the music with a phony gas chamber
‘Cause one’s got a weasel and the other’s got a flag
One’s got on the pole shove the other in a bag
With the rerun shows and the cocaine nose job
The daytime crap of a folksinger slob
He hung himself with a guitar string
Slap the turkey neck and it’s hangin from a pigeon wing
You can’t write if you can’t relate
Trade the cash for the beef for the body for the hate
And my time is a piece of wax, fallin’ on a termite
That’s chokin on the splinters
Soy un perdedor
I’m a loser baby, so why don’t you kill me?
(Get crazy with the Cheeze Whiz)
Soy un perdidor
I’m a loser baby, so why don’t you kill me?
(Drive-by body pierce)
Yo bring it on down
Sooooooy…
(Soy un perdedor I’m a loser baby, so why don’t you kill me?)
(I’m a driver, I’m a winner; things are gonna change, I can feel it.)
Soy un perdidor
I’m a loser baby, so why don’t you kill me?
(I can’t believe you)
Soy un perdidor
I’m a loser baby, so why don’t you kill me?
Soy un perdidor
I’m a loser baby, so why don’t you kill me?
(Sprechen sie Deutches, baby)
Soy un perdidor
I’m a loser baby, so why don’t you kill me?
(Know what I’m sayin?)