Con un trago en la mano y alcohol en el pecho cualquiera es varón, cualquiera se cree poeta. Cualquiera a los 20 años cree que el mundo se cambia. Hasta que uno cambia con el mundo. Hasta que se da cuenta que no quiere cambiar.
Y yo ya tengo más de 30, y cerca de 40, y trato de vivir como pienso, o pensar como vivo. Y a esta altura de la vida, trato de aplastar a la nostalgia, o a la culpa, o a la envidia.
Con poco éxito.
I walk 47 miles of barbed wire,
I use a cobra-snake for a necktie,
I got a brand new house on the roadside,
Made from rattlesnake hide,
I got a brand new chimney made on top,
Made out of a human skull,
Now come on take a walk with me, arlene,
And tell me, who do you love?
Who do you love?
Tombstone hand and a graveyard mine,
Just 22 and I don't mind dying.
Who do you love?
I rode around the town, use a rattlesnake whip,
Take it easy arlene, don't give me no lip,
Who do you love?
Night was dark, but the sky was blue,
Down the alley, the ice-wagon flew,
Heard a bump, and somebody screamed,
You should have heard just what I seen.
Who do you love?
Arlene took me by my hand,
And she said ooowee bo, you know I understand.
Who do you love?
