Us and them - Pink Floyd

Ya regresé. Y estiré demasiado mi propia elasticidad.
Ya me cansé. No tenía idea de mi resistencia.
Ya me estacioné. Pero de retro no soy muy hábil.
Ya recuperé la memoria. Pero procedo a ahogarla en alcohol.
Ya me vi mañana. Pero no es cierto, siempre es hoy.
Ya me toca descansar. El cuerpo, pues el resto no para.
Ya fue. Por un ratito.
Ya.

Us, and them
And after all were only ordinary men.
Me, and you.
God only knows its noz what we would choose to do.
Forward he cried from the rear
And the front rank died.
And the general sat and the lines on the map
Moved from side to side.
Black and blue
And who knows which is which and who is who.
Up and down.
But in the end its only round and round.
Havent you heard its a battle of words
The poster bearer cried.
Listen son, said the man with the gun
Theres room for you inside.

I mean, theyre not gunna kill ya, so if you give em a quick short,
Sharp, shock, they wont do it again. dig it? I mean he get off
Lightly, cos I wouldve given him a thrashing - I only hit him once!
It was only a difference of opinion, but really...i mean good manners
Dont cost nothing do they, eh?

Down and out
It cant be helped but theres a lot of it about.
With, without.
And wholl deny its what the fightings all about?
Out of the way, its a busy day
Ive got things on my mind.
For the want of the price of tea and a slice
The old man died.

Don't leave me now - Pink Floyd

Y se van todos de una vez al gran carajo.

Porque tendría que aceptar un barato chantaje de un negocio que claramente no conviene al bolsillo, pero si a la imagen y a la cabeza. Así que nos jodemos todos esta vez, perdemos todos un poquito, yo más que todos los demás por supuesto, y esperemos que no crezca la bola.

Porque la ironía de Floyd? Porque solía sentir bastante odio al escucharla, solo por eso, solo por los viejos tiempos de ira, de las épocas de despertar rockero y de problemas que hoy quisiera tener, pero que entonces eran maravillosamente grandes.

Así que en 1 año me estaré riendo de este momento ¿no?

Ooooo babe,
Dont leave me now.
Dont say its the end of the road.
Remember the flowers I sent.
I need you, babe,
To put through the shredder in front of my friends.
Oh babe,
Dont leave me now.
How could you go?
When you know how I need you,
To beat to a pulp on a saturday night.
Oh babe,
Dont leave me now.
How can you treat me this way?
Running away.
Oh babe,
Why are you running away?

Hey you - Pink Floyd

Buenos días a la voluntad. Si sigo parado, será un evento para celebrar. Siento que las piernas me pesan mucho, y me está costando hacer esto solo para relajarme. Hacerse mierda de cansancio no era el método para tener la cabeza bajo control. No físicamente, era mentalmente.
Se suponía que lo hacia para estar mejor, no para arrastrar los pies.
Era un reto de mejora, no un castigo.
Y si lo sigo haciendo (seguiré, claro) que sea para despistar a los demonios y no para atraer nuevos, espero no tener que desviar la mirada o dirigirla a la nada. Sin traspasar, sin aparecer, quiero seguir siendo, pero sin dolor y sin ser visto.
Y menos oído.

Hey you, out there in the cold
Getting lonely, getting old
Can you feel me?
Hey you, standing in the aisles
With itchy feet and fading smiles
Can you feel me?
Hey you, dont help them to bury the light
Don't give in without a fight.

Hey you, out there on your own
Sitting naked by the phone
Would you touch me?
Hey you, with you ear against the wall
Waiting for someone to call out
Would you touch me?
Hey you, would you help me to carry the stone?
Open your heart, I'm coming home.

But it was only fantasy.
The wall was too high,
As you can see.
No matter how he tried,
He could not break free.
And the worms ate into his brain.

Hey you, standing in the road
always doing what you're told,
Can you help me?
Hey you, out there beyond the wall,
Breaking bottles in the hall,
Can you help me?
Hey you, don't tell me there's no hope at all
Together we stand, divided we fall.

On the turning away - Pink Floyd

Ya me iré poniendo al día con las imágenes... pero ahora me llegó un buen recuerdo digno de ser nombrado. Mi primera canción de Floyd de la cual me gustó la melodía. De la cual entendí como canción y no como obra conceptual.
Claro que ahora me gusta todo, pero esas épocas... las cervezas de mi temporal peor enemígo (a quien ahora ni considero un poco como tal), la exageración alabatoria de la banda... la pseudo psicodelia... era fantástica. Me hacía sentir muy cool. Y ahora me trae buenos recuerdos. Y me abrí a los buenos shows visuales que ahora disfruto tan poco.
Así que gracias.

On the turning away
From the pale and downtrodden
And the words they say
Which we wont understand
Dont accept that whats happening
Is just a case of others suffering
Or youll find that youre joining in
The turning away

Its a sin that somehow
Light is changing to shadow
And casting its shroud
Over all we have known
Unaware how the ranks have grown
Driven on by a heart of stone
We could find that were all alone
In the dream of the proud

On the wings of the night
As the daytime is stirring
Where the speechless unite
In a silent accord
Using words you will find are strange
And mesmerized as they light the flame
Feel the new wind of change
On the wings of the night

No more turning away
From the weak and the weary
No more turning away
From the coldness inside
Just a world that we all must share
Its not enough just to stand and stare
Is it only a dream that therell be
No more turning away?

Run like hell - Pink Floyd

No hay forma de parar.
Esta mañana estaba de regreso en la carretera y claro, era cosa de mirar y darse cuenta que aquí no ha cambiado nada, hemos regresado para seguir corriendo, para tomar impulso y dudo que algo vaya a detener este ritmo hasta fin de año.
Vamos preparándonos para nuevas marchas y nuevas carreras alocadas. Corre como loco, que la inercia continua y el detenerse, solo nos estrellaría contra la pared.
Pero me gusta.

Run, Run, Run, Run, Run, Run, Run, Run,
Run, Run, Run, Run, Run, Run, Run, Run.
You better make your face up in
Your favorite disguise.
With your button down lips and your
Roller blind eyes.
With your empty smile
And your hungry heart.
Feel the bile rising from your guilty past.
With your nerves in tatters
When the cockleshell shatters
And the hammers batter
Down the door.
You'd better run.

Run, Run, Run, Run, Run, Run, Run, Run,
Run, Run, Run, Run, Run, Run, Run, Run.
You better run all day
And run all night.
Keep your dirty feelings
Deep inside.
And if you're taking your girlfriend
Out tonight
You'd better park the car
Well out of sight.
Cause if they catch you in the back seat
Trying to pick her locks,
They're gonna send you back to mother
In a cardboard box.
You better run.

Dogs - Pink Floyd

Creo que hoy me comporté un tanto perro, poco constructivo, directamente agresivo, fueron instantes, pero puedo oler a quien me teme, puedo destazar con calma y frialdad a quien me jode, jodió, podría joder... en fin.
Será un atributo para estar orgulloso? Es dudosamente admirable la capacidad de tomar venganza con tanta frialdad y sin remordimientos, con frases que ni pensadas serían tan crueles, y no me siento mal, es más, creo que hice justicia, de una forma ruda, pero equilibrada.
Tengo algunas cuentas más que ajustar, especialmente las tuyas Negrita, de los que te te arrancaron alguna lágrima. No las olvido y las iré cobrando poco a poco, sin que por ello te vaya a molestar, pero será en tu nombre y para tí.
Y eso me incluye a mi por supuesto.

You got to be crazy
You gotta have a real need
You gotta sleep on your toes
When you're on the street
Got to be able to pick out the easy meat
With your eyes closed
Then moving in silently
Down wind and out of sight
You've gotta strike when the moment is right
without thinking

And after a while
You can work on points for style
Like the club tie
And the firm handshake
A certain look in the eye and the easy smile
You have to be trusted
By the people that you lie to
So that when they turn their backs on you
You'll get the chance to put the knife in

You gotta keep one eye
Looking over your shoulder
You know, it's going to get harder
Harder and harder
As you get older
Yeah, and in the end you'll pack up
and fly down south
Hide your head in the sand
Just another sad old man
All alone and dying of cancer

And when you loose control
You'll reap the harvest you have sown
And as the fear grows
The bad blood slows and turns to stone
And it's too late to lose the weight
You used to need to throw around
So have a good drown
As you go down
All alone
Dragged down by the stone

Gotta admit
That I'm a little bit confused
Sometimes it seems to me
As if I'm just being used
Gotta stay awake
Gotta try and shake off
This creeping malaise
If I don't stand my own ground
How can I find my way out of this maze?
Deaf, dumb, and blind
You just keep on pretending
That everyone's expendable
And no one has a real friend
And it seems to you the thing to do
Would be to isolate the winner
And everything's done under the sun
And you believe at heart
everyone's a killer

Who was born in a house full of pain
Who was trained not to spit in the fan
Who was told what to do by the man
Who was broken by trained personnel
Who was fitted with collar and chain
Who was given a pat on the back
Who was breaking away from the pack
Who was only a stranger at home
Who was ground down in the end
Who was found dead on the phone
Who was dragged down by the stone
Who was dragged down by the stone

Time - Pink Floyd

Es que estaba tan bien, que es preciso remarcarlo y conservarlo. Pocas veces hay feeling así con una amiga, pocas veces quiero ser cordial e incisivo sin subterfugios y medias intenciones.
Pocas veces que conmueve tanto la música, es raro sentir que me elevo en medio de la gente, es raro que me peguen en la nuca en un lugar donde no hay intención más que el hedonismo.
El calor encierra entonces cosas maravillosas, y saca también cosas buenas de mi, y me hace ilusionar en que voy aprendiendo, más viejo, y más ácido.
Que me la he pasado muy bien...

Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day
You fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way.
Kicking around on a piece of ground in your home town
Waiting for someone or something to show you the way.

Tired of lying in the sunshine staying home to watch the
rain.
You are young and life is long and there is time to kill
today.
And then one day you find ten years have got behind you.
No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun.

And you run and you run to catch up with the sun but it's
sinking
Racing around to come up behind you again.
The sun is the same in a relative way but you're older.
Shorter of breath and one day closer to death.

Every year is getting shorter never seem to find the time.
Plans that either come to naught or half a page of scribbled
lines
Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way
The time is gone, the song is over, Thought I'd something more to
say.

Nobody home - Pink Floyd

Sería absurdo quejarme por el destino que yo mismo me he labrado, pero yo se que no escribes esto en ánimo autocomplaciente... ¿no?
Bueno, si no hay nadie en casa es porque pones ocupado, porque quieres estar solo, porque así es mejor, bien sabes que lo puedes remediar, pero la verdad es que lo prefieres así. Más vale un hombre solo-solo, que solo-acompañado.
Recuerdo bien la forma en que The Wall afectó mi adolescencia tardía, fue un mazazo en la cabeza del que aún me quedan secuelas. Talvez el mejor disco conceptual adolescente de la historia. Una guía para fascistas por resentimiento. Para mi, no son tan malos recuerdos antes la compleja realidad.
No olvides recordarla con una canción.

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 good dog they sometimes throw me a bone in
I've got elastic bands keeping my shoes on
Got those swollen hand blues
Got thirteen channels of shit on the TV to choose from
I've got electric light
and I've got second sight
I've got amazing powers of observation
and that is how I know
when I try to get through
on the telephone to you
there'll be nobody home

I've got the obligatory Hendrix perm
and the inevitable pinhole burns
All down the front of my favourite satin shirt
I've got nicotine stains on my fingers
I've got a silver spoon on a chain
I've got a grand piano to prop up my mortal remains
I've got wild staring eyes
I've got a strong urge to fly
But I've got nowhere to fly to
Ooooh babe, when I pick up the phone
there's still nobody home
I've got a pair of Gohill's boots
and I've got fading roots

One of these days - Pink Floyd

Nuevamente un tema instrumental. Y evocativo. Fue la primera vez que ví en Pink Floyd algo más que misticismo pretencioso: sentí rock intenso y vi un gran show musical: era el disco en vivo de regreso de la banda, pomposamente llamado "Delicate sound of thunder", y recordando bien ahora, visto con alguien con quien jamás me volvería a sentar a la mesa. Que jovencitos rencorosos éramos.
Brutal para momentos de turbulencia y cuando los odios se suben a la cabeza, letal con guitarra slide, fuerte y redoblante. 4 tipos + la electricidad, pueden romper todo y hacerte sentir bien y con energía.
Así es la música que me gusta, la que transmite sentimientos y emociones. Hoy estoy más con las emociones pues me siento los sentimientos presentes, pero los miro sin mucha intensidad y con cariño.
Si, hoy también te extraño aunque sea en la forma de siempre... y no sea la forma como debería de ser.
De veras te extraño piel oscura.