lunes, 27 de agosto de 2007

la canción: "flakes"

El día que se murió Zappa yo estaba con mi tío Alan en su renault 12 beige. Escuchábamos la radio mientras avanzábamos despacio por el camino de tierra que daba a la casa de Daniel, el "electricista". La radio era la 93.3, que siempre se destacó por lo berreta y porque hacía cadena con distintas radios de Buenos Aires. Las raíces de los cipreses aparecían como dedos artríticos por debajo de la tierra, la marcha del auto era lenta. No teníamos apuro. La casa de madera ya estaba a la vista cuando el locutor dijo: "acaba de morir el músico Frank Zappa en Estados Unidos, tenía 53 años, tenía cancer de próstata". Alguno de los dos apagó la radio. Alan bajó y golpeó la puerta de Daniel. Yo me quedé en el auto pensando en otras cosas, la muerte era algo lejano y que pasaba en las películas. Era el cuatro de diciembre de 1993. Estaba en cuarto grado, tenía muchas otras cosas en que pensar.


Ah, la canción que elegí no es la que más me gusta -hay otras, muchas otras-, pero es muy gracioso cómo gasta al amigo Bob.

"Flakes"

Flakes! Flakes!
Flakes! Flakes!
They don't do no good
They never be workin'
When they oughta should
They waste your time
They're wastin' mine
California's got the most of them
Boy, they got a host of them
Swear t'God they got the most
At every business on the coast
Swear t'God they got the most
At every business on the coast
They got the Flakes

Flakes! Flakes!

They can't fix yer brakes
You ask 'em, "Where's my motor?"
"Well it was eaten by snakes . . ."
You can stab 'n' shoot 'n' spit
But they won't be fixin' it
They're lyin' an' lazy
They can be drivin' you crazy
Swear t'God they got the most
At every business on the coast
Swear t'God they got the most
At every business on the coast
[Take it away, Bob. . .]

I asked as nice as I could
If my job would
Somehow be finished by Friday
Well, the whole damn weekend
Came 'n' went, Frankie
[Wanna buy some mandies, Bob?]
'N'they didn't do nothin'
But they charged me double for Sunday
You know, no matter what you do
They gonna cheat 'n' rob you
Then they'll send you a bill
That'll get your senses reelin'
And if you do not pay
They got computer collectors
That'll get you so crazy
Til your head'll go through th' ceilin'
Yes it will!

I'm a moron 'n' this is my wife
She's frosting a cake
With a paper knife
All what we got here's
American made
It's a little bit cheesey,
But it's nicely displayed
Well we don't get excited when it
Crumbles 'n' breaks
We just get on the phone
And call up some Flakes
They rush on over
'N' wreck it some more
'N' we are so dumb
They're linin' up at our door
Well, the toilet went crazy
Yesterday afternoon
The plumber he says
"Never flush a lampoon!"
This great information
Cost me half a week's pay
And the toilet blew up
Later on the next day ay-eee-ay
Blew up the next day WOO-OOO

We are millions 'n' millions
We're coming to get you
We're protected by unions
So don't let it upset you
Can't escape the conclusion
It's probably God's Will
That civilization
Will grind to a standstill
And we are the people
Who will make it all happen
While yer children is sleepin',
Yer puppy is crappin'
You might call us Flakes
Or something else you might coin us
But we know you're so greedy
That you'll probably join us
We're comin' to get you, we're comin' to get you
We're comin' to get you, we're comin' to get you
We're comin' to get you, we're comin' to get you
We're comin' to get you, we're comin' to get you

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1 comentario:

Horacín dijo...

A Zappa le estaba haciendo falta una banda, JUA!