Música de gorno

Diferente da filosofia pagodeira nos leva a crer, falar sobre relacionamentos humanos não é tão fútil ou inútil. É aquele microcosmo que incide diretamente no macrocosmo. A porra da Guerra de Tróia não me deixa mentir. Começou com um sujeito se sentindo um gorno e terminou em uma das maiores batalhas da Grécia e da humanidade. Obviamente, romantizar um pé na bunda e transformar e centralizar isso como prioridade é uma escrotice sem tamanho; na melhor das hipóteses. Na pior, bem...sempre temos um Lindenberg para mostrar o lado negro da cultura popular. Mas como nenhum tema, por mais clichê que possa soar, é imune a uma abordagem criativa e fora do senso comum, mesmo os gorninhos podem render boas manifestações artísticas. Vão dois exemplos aí abaixo:

http://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=no+way+pain+of+salvation&aq=f

There is no way that you can love her like I do.
Oh no, there is no way - I see through you.
'Cause when I hold her in the night,
All that is wrong will become right.
And I know that she feels it, too,
'Cause no-one loves her like I do.

There is no way that you could know her like I do.
Oh no, there is now way you'll ever do.
She is a flower of the wild,
Oh, and I have seen her from her darkest side.
She is a twisted little ride,
And you will never know her like I do.

But still I'm crying, feels like bleeding from two self-inflicted wounds.
Young and helpless, treading water in a cesspool of maroon.
Feels like dying, feels like dying... But I'll live!
But I'll live!
But I'll live!
But I'll live!

There is now way that you could touch her like I do.
Oh no, she thinks of me when she's with you.
She wants it gently like a child,
But play her right and she goes wild.
But one step wrong and she will hide.
And you will never touch her like I do.

There is now way that you can fuck her like I can.
Oh no, you're simply not that kind of man.
'Cause sometime when she's screaming no,
She really wants for you to go, go, go.
But you can never ask her why,
No, then she will close up and deny.

But still I'm bleeding this old road salt from my self-inflicted eyes.
Slowly scarring and corroding, to thaw this young heart of ice.
And I'm kneeling, yes I'm kneeling... But I'll live!
But I'll live!
But I'll live!
But I'll live!

I can see how you would need her to spice up your grind.
I can see why she moves you - knocks you out of orbit and mind.
And I can see how you need her to save you from yourself.
Unmeshing you from your grid, to dust you off on your shelf.

But I can't see why she needs you.
No.
I can't see that at all.
You'd have something that I don't?
Would that be possible?
Would that be possible?
Would that be possible?
Would that be possible?

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rEcPHrN5GKE
Your Chosen Misery

When the ones you love have let you down
Feel failure and wear the fool's crown
Remember still there is a blessing
Within the hardest lesson

You self serving arrogant sycophant
Your selfish acts thoughtless tasks and livid rants
Every time you want to make the world go away
Just take an injection of your chosen misery

And when I fall
I have the strength to learn the steps
And crawl into the pain
Sometimes the mirror is cruel
If your mother gave the lesson
Never waste the truth

You self serving arrogant sycophant
Your selfish acts thoughtless tasks and livid rants
Every time you want to make the world go away
Just take an injection of your chosen misery

Yesterday was plagued with rain
Like seven drops of velvet pain
Hail yesterday
Thursday was the day of sin
Friday silent hell began
Hail yesterday

Saturday was plagued with rain - I played the jester perfectly, hail yesterday
Sunday never came to mind - I played the jester perfectly when misery delivered me
Monday's afterthought was blind - I played the jester perfectly, hail yesterday
Tuesday stole the show - I played the jester perfectly when misery delivered me

Hail yesterday
Hail yesterday

Tuesday stole the show when Wednesday killed the golden crow
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Por isso, nem mesmo passar um tempo com uma biscate é de todo inútil, a vaca pode lhe render inspiração para algo produtivo. Claro que isso pode não acontecer, nesse caso, jogue fexes na porta e nas janelas da casa dela durante a madrugada.
PS: "Não se preocupe, você terá outras mulheres e elas também irão te deixar" - Charles Bukowski