Une erreur est survenue dans ce gadget

jeudi, août 02, 2012

Truckin’ got my chips cashed in
Keep truckin’ like the doodah man
Together, more or less in line
Just keep truckin’ on
Arrows of neon and flashing marquees out on Main Street
Chicago, New York, Detroit and its all the same street
Your typical city involved in a typical daydream
Hang it up and see what tomorrow brings
Dallas got a soft machine
Houston too close to New Orleans
New York got the ways and means
But just won’t let you be
Most of the cats that you meet on the street speak of true love
Most of the time they’re sitting and crying at home
One of these days they know they gotta get going
Out of the door and into the street all alone
Truckin’ like the doodah man
Once told me “Gotta play your hand
Sometimes the cards ain’t worth a dime
If you don’t lay them down”
Sometimes the lights all shining on me
Other times I can barely see
Lately it occurs to me
What a long strange trip it’s been
What in the world ever became of sweet Jane?
She lost her sparkle you know she isn’t the same
Living on reds and vitamin C and cocaine
All her friends can say is ain’t it a shame
Truckin’ up to Buffalo
Been thinking you got to mellow slow
Takes time, you pick a place to go
Just keep truckin’ on
Sitting and staring out of the hotel window
Got a tip they’re gonna kick the door in again
Like to get some sleep before I travel
But if you got a warrant I guess you’re gonna come in
Busted down on Bourbon Street
Set up like a bowling pin
Knocked down, it gets to wearing thin
They just won’t let you be
You’re sick of hanging around, you’d like to travel
Get tired of travelling you want to settle down
I guess they can’t revoke your soul for trying
Get out of the door, light out and look all around
Sometimes the lights all shining on me
Other times I can barely see
Lately it occurs to me
What a long strange trip it’s been
Truckin’ I’m a going home
Whoa, whoa, baby, back where I belong
Back home, sit down and patch my bones
And get back truckin’ on

Lyrics By Robert Hunter, Music By Jerry Garcia/Bob Weir/Phil Lesh
“Jack And Diane”
Little ditty about Jack and Diane
Two American kids growin’ up in the heartland
Jacky’s gonna be a football star
Diane debutante backseat of Jacky’s car
Suckin’ on a chili dog outside the Tastee Freeze
Diane’s sittin’ on Jacky’s lap, he’s got his hands between her knees
Jacky say, “Hey Diane lets run off behind a shady tree
Dribble off those Bobby brooks, let me do what I please”
And say a
“Oh yeah life goes on
Long after the thrill of livin’ is gone”
Say, “Oh yeah life goes on
Long after the thrill of livin’ is gone, now rock on”
Jacky sits back reflects his thoughts for the moment
Scratches his head and does his best James Dean
Well you know Diane, we oughtta run of the city
Diane says “Baby, you ain’t missin’ nothin’”
Jacky say a
“Oh yeah life goes on Long after the thrill of livin’ is gone
Oh yeah say life goes on Long after the thrill of livin’ is gone”
Gonna let it rock
Let it roll
Let the Bible belt come down and save my soul
Hold on to 16 as long as you can
Changes come around real soon, make us women and men
Oh yeah life goes on
Long after the thrill of livin’ is gone
Oh yeah say life goes on
Long after the thrill of livin’ is gone
A little ditty about Jack and Diane
Two American kids doin’ the best they can
written by John Mellencamp
 The Ballad Of Frankie Lee And Judas Priest
Well, Frankie Lee and Judas Priest
They were the best of friends
So when Frankie Lee needed money one day
Judas quickly pulled out a roll of tens
And placed them on a footstool
Just above the plotted plain
Sayin’, “Take your pick, Frankie Boy
My loss will be your gain”
Well, Frankie Lee, he sat right down
And put his fingers to his chin
But with the cold eyes of Judas on him
His head began to spin
“Would ya please not stare at me like that,” he said
“It’s just my foolish pride
But sometimes a man must be alone
And this is no place to hide”
Well, Judas, he just winked and said
“All right, I’ll leave you here
But you’d better hurry up and choose which of those bills you want
Before they all disappear”
“I’m gonna start my pickin’ right now
Just tell me where you’ll be”
Judas pointed down the road
And said, “Eternity!”
 “Eternity?” said Frankie Lee
With a voice as cold as ice
“That’s right,” said Judas Priest, “Eternity
Though you might call it ‘Paradise’”
“I don’t call it anything”
Said Frankie Lee with a smile
“All right,” said Judas Priest
“I’ll see you after a while”
Well, Frankie Lee, he sat back down
Feelin’ low and mean
When just then a passing stranger
Burst upon the scene
Saying, “Are you Frankie Lee, the gambler
Whose father is deceased?
Well, if you are, there’s a fellow callin’ you down the road
And they say his name is Priest”
Said Frankie Lee in fright
“I do recall him very well
In fact, he just left my sight”
“Yes, that’s the one,” said the stranger
As quiet as a mouse
“Well, my message is, he’s down the road
Stranded in a house”
Well, Frankie Lee, he panicked
He dropped ev’rything and ran
Until he came up to the spot
Where Judas Priest did stand
“What kind of house is this,” he said
“Where I have come to roam?”
“It’s not a house,” said Judas Priest
“It’s not a house . . . it’s a home”
Well, Frankie Lee, he trembled
He soon lost all control
Over ev’rything which he had made
While the mission bells did toll
He just stood there staring
At that big house as bright as any sun
With four and twenty windows
And a woman’s face in ev’ry one
Well, up the stairs ran Frankie Lee
With a soulful, bounding leap
And, foaming at the mouth
He began to make his midnight creep
For sixteen nights and days he raved
But on the seventeenth he burst
Into the arms of Judas Priest
Which is where he died of thirst
No one tried to say a thing
When they took him out in jest
Except, of course, the little neighbor boy
Who carried him to rest
And he just walked along, alone
With his guilt so well concealed
And muttered underneath his breath
“Nothing is revealed”
Well, the moral of the story
The moral of this song
Is simply that one should never be
Where one does not belong
So when you see your neighbor carryin’ somethin’
Help him with his load
And don’t go mistaking Paradise
For that home across the road
- Written by Bob Dylan

samedi, mars 17, 2012

un jeu sympa


dimanche, décembre 11, 2011

what 's music?

Music ?

what would you be without music?
Music is eveything; Nature is music (cicadas in the tropical night);
the sea is music; the wind is music.

Primitive elements are music, agreable and discordant;
the rain is music on the roof and the storm ragging in the sky is music.

Every country in the world has is own music
and music becomes an ambassador.

The Tango in Argentina and the Calypso in Antilles ,
music is the oldest ikontey.

A baby is born and music puts him to sleep, he can't read,
he can't understand a picture but he will listen to music.

Music is marriage; music is death ; the scope of music is immensity and infinity.

Music is the "esperanto" of the world;
Music arrouses courage and leads you to war;
The romans used to have drums rollings before they attacked.

Where the buggle to sound "wake up" and pay hommage to the brave warrior.

The "marseillaise" had lead many generations to victory and revolutions;
it is a chant of wild exitement, delirium and pride

Music is eternal; Music is divine

You pray to young god with music;
Music can't dictate moods, it can emerve and subdue, subjugate, exhaust, asternet the heart

Music is cedar, an evergreen tree, a fragment of durable wood

Music is like honor and pride, free from defect, dammage and decay.

Without music i may feel blind, attropied, incomplete, inexistant

mercredi, octobre 05, 2011


« Essayer de tout comprendre en fonction de la mémoire, du passé et des écrits, c’est comme avoir vécu l’essentiel de sa vie, le nez dans un guide touristique, sans jamais regarder le paysage. »

« Ce que nous savons par la mémoire, nous ne le savons que de seconde main. »

« Si l’univers n’a pas de signification, l’énoncé qui dit cela n’en a pas non plus. »

« Qui n’a pas la capacité de vivre dans le présent, ne peut faire de plans valables pour l’avenir. »
« L’engagement religieux irrévocable, quelle que soit la confession choisie, n’est pas seulement un suicide intellectuel, c’est aussi la négation même de la
foi, puisqu’il s’agit d’un acte qui ferme l’esprit à toute nouvelle vision du monde. »

« La vision de Dieu ne s’obtient qu’en abandonnant toute croyance en une quelconque idée de Dieu. »

« Tout éveil doit nécessairement se produire spontanément, n’en déplaise à ceux qui veulent obliger les gens à devenir leurs disciples pour l’atteindre. »

« Chercher l’éveil, c’est comme utiliser ses lunettes pour les chercher. »

« Le drame de l’homme occidental vient de ce qu’il se sent séparé de l’univers. »

Alan Watts le philosophe

dimanche, juillet 24, 2011

Et la mort n'aura pas d'empire

Et la mort n'aura pas d'empire.
Les morts nus feront foule
Avec l’homme dans le vent et la lune rousse;
Quand leurs os blanchiront et leurs os blancs partiront,
Ils auront des étoiles au coude et au pied;
Même s'ils sont fous, ils seront sains d’esprit,
Même s'ils sont perdus en mer, ils reviendront;
Les amoureux seront égarés mais l’amour restera;
Et la mort n'aura pas d'empire.
Et la mort n'aura pas d'empire.
Sous les rouleaux de la mer
Ils demeureront à l'abri de la tourmente;
Torturés pour que lâchent leurs nerfs,
Attachés à une roue, ils ne cèderont pas;
La foi en leurs mains éclatera,
Et les diables cornus les piétineront;
Écartelés de toute éternité, ils ne céderont pas;
Et la mort n'aura pas d'empire.
Et la mort n'aura pas d'empire.
Plus aucun cri de mouette à leurs oreilles
Ou le déferlement des vagues sur les rivages;
Où la fleur s'épanouit peut-être qu'aucune fleur
Ne lèvera son front aux coups de la pluie;
Bien qu’ils soient fous et raides comme des clous,
Leurs têtes laboureront les champs de marguerites;
Brisés par le soleil jusqu’à ce que le soleil se brise,
Et la mort n'aura pas d'empire.
traduit de dylan thomas

samedi, juillet 02, 2011


The rangers had a homecoming in harlem late last night
And the magic rat drove his sleek machine over the jersey state line
Barefoot girl sitting on the hood of a dodge
Drinking warm beer in the soft summer rain
The rat pulls into town rolls up his pants
Together they take a stab at romance and disappear down flamingo lane

Well the maximum lawman run down flamingo chasing the rat and the barefoot
And the kids round here look just like shadows always quiet, holding hands
From the churches to the jails tonight all is silence in the world
As we take our stand down in jungleland

Outside the streets on fire in a real death waltz

Between flesh and what's fantasy and the poets down here
Don't write nothing at all, they just stand back and let it all be
And in the quick of the night they reach for their moment
And try to make an honest stand but they wind up wounded, not even dead
Tonight in jungleland

Written by Bruce Springsteen