O
Old chensamurai
Guest
New York City… Cafe Wha?... 115 Macdougal St (tra 3rd e Bleeker Sts) (212-254-3706)… osservando l’insegna che lacera la luce per quel che è… dall’ultra-violetto… all’infra-rosso… il Samurai se ne sta lì… un po’ in-cazzato… un po’ de-presso… parte la Fender… cazzo, amici, c’è Jimi!… e c’è Joe, quello che spara… quello che spara vera-mente… fa fuoco sulla sua donna… la Strato urla santo piombo rovente… è l’oltre della ragione… la carne… tradita e soffer-Ente… che spara… e mi vengono in m-Ente i miei amici… quelli del forum… i tra-diti e le tra-dite… ai quali ho rotto, molte volte, coglioni e ovaie… “oggi no”, dice il Samurai… oggi non è giornata per la filo-sofia… e nemmeno per la ra-gione… oggi è la gior-nata del mio amico Leone… oggi è la giornata di Joe… una fredda giornata newyorkese… la giornata dei tra-diti… quelli che sparano… perché i tra-diti, a volte, sparano… e non c’è filo-sofia che tenga…
Hey Joe, where you goin’ with that gun in your hand
Hey Joe, I said where ya goin’ with that gun in your hand
I’m goin’ down to shoot my old lady now
I’m goin’ down to shoot my old lady now
You know I caught her messin’ ’round with another man
I’m goin’ down to shoot my old lady
You know I caught her messin’ ’round with another man
Huh, and that ain’t to cool
I’m goin’ down to shoot my old lady
You know I caught her messin’ ’round with another man
Huh, and that ain’t to cool
Hey Joe, I heard you shot your woman down
You shot her down down
Hey Joe, I heard you shot your lady down
Hey Joe, I heard you shot your lady down
You shot her down to the ground
Yes, I did, I shot her
You know I caught her messin’ ’round, messin’ ’round town
Yes, I did, I shot her
Yes, I did, I shot her
You know I caught my old lady messin’ ’round the town
And I gave her the gun, I shot her
And I gave her the gun, I shot her
Hey Joe, where you gonna run to now
Where you gonna run to
Hey Joe, I said, where you gonna run to now
Hey Joe, I said, where you gonna run to now
Where you, where you gonna go
Well dig it
I’m goin’ way down south
Way down Mexico way, alright
Way down Mexico way, alright
I’m goin’ way down south
Way down where I can be free
Ain’t no one gonna find me
Ain’t no hangman gonna find me
He ain’t gonna put a rope around me
You better believe it right now
Hey Joe, you better run on down
Goodbye, everybody.
Way down where I can be free
Ain’t no one gonna find me
Ain’t no hangman gonna find me
He ain’t gonna put a rope around me
You better believe it right now
Hey Joe, you better run on down
Goodbye, everybody.
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