Thursday, June 12, 2008

Sting - Shape of my heart



STING

"Shape Of My Heart"

He deals the cards as a meditation
And those he plays never suspect
He doesn't play for the money he wins
He doesn't play for the respect
He deals the cards to find the answer
The sacred geometry of chance
The hidden law of probable outcome
The numbers lead a dance

I know that the spades are the swords of a soldier
I know that the clubs are weapons of war
I know that diamonds mean money for this art
But that's not the shape of my heart

He may play the jack of diamonds
He may lay the queen of spades
He may conceal a king in his hand
While the memory of it fades

I know that the spades are the swords of a soldier
I know that the clubs are weapons of war
I know that diamonds mean money for this art
But that's not the shape of my heart
That's not the shape, the shape of my heart

And if I told you that I loved you
You'd maybe think there's something wrong
I'm not a man of too many faces
The mask I wear is one
Those who speak know nothing
And find out to their cost
Like those who curse their luck in too many places
And those who fear are lost

I know that the spades are the swords of a soldier
I know that the clubs are weapons of war
I know that diamonds mean money for this art
But that's not the shape of my heart
That's not the shape of my heart

Friday, May 23, 2008

Michael Jackson - Little Susie





Somebody killed little Susie
The girl with the tune
Who sings in the daytime at noon
She was there screaming
Beating her voice in her doom
But nobody came to her soon...

A fall down the stairs
Her dress torn
Oh the blood in her hair...
A mystery so sullen in air
She lie there so tenderly
Fashioned so slenderly
Lift her with care,
Oh the blood in her hair...

Everyone came to see
The girl that now is dead
So blind stare the eyes in her head...
And suddenly a voice from the crowd said
This girl lived in vain
Her face bear such agony, such strain...

But only the man from next door
Knew Little Susie and how he cried
As he reached down
To close Susie's eyes...
She lie there so tenderly
Fashioned so slenderly
Lift her with care
Oh the blood in her hair...

It was all for God's sake
For her singing the tune
For someone to feel her despair
To be damned to know hoping is dead and you're doomed
Then to scream out
And nobody's there...

She knew no one cared...

Father left home, poor mother died
Leaving Susie alone
Grandfather's soul too had flown...
No one to care
Just to love her
How much can one bear
Rejecting the needs in her prayers...

Neglection can kill
Like a knife in your soul
Oh it will
Little Susie fought so hard to live...
She lie there so tenderly
Fashioned so slenderly
Lift her with care
So young and so fair

Tuesday, May 6, 2008

Nathalie Cardone - Comandante Che Guevara Hasta Siempre


Aprendimos a quererte
Desde la historica altura
Donde el sol de tu bravura
Le puso cerco a la muerte
Aqui se queda la clara
La entrñable transparencia
De tu querida presencia
Comandante Che Guevar

Tu mano gloriosa y fuerte
sobre la historia dispara
cuando todo Santa Clara
Se despierta para verte

Aqií se queda la clara
La entrañable transparencia
De tu querida presencia
Comandante Che Guevara

Vienes quemando la brisa
con soles de primavera
para plantar la bandera
con la luz de tu sonrisa

Aqui se queda la clara
La entranable transparencia
De tu querida presencia
Comandante Che Guevara

Tu amor revolucionario
te conduce a nueva empresa
donde espera la firmeza
de tu brazo libertario

Aqui se queda la clara
La entrañable transparencia
De tu querida presencia
Comandante Che Guevara
Seguiremos adelante
como junto a ti seguimos
y con Fidel te decimos

"Hasta siempre Comandante"

Aqui se queda la clara
La entranable transparencia
De tu querida presencia
Comandante Che


Friday, May 2, 2008

James Blunt


James Blunt’s family have served in one kind of army or another since 995A.D. A long line of warriors. Savages really. Not a musical bone in any one of their bodies. The only music he heard growing up was “Happy Birthday” and “Silent Night”. His father considered all music, even classical, to be unnecessary noise. Although James was not one to rock the family boat, he didn’t really think he was going to join the army - it sort of crept up on him. Plus his family didn’t have a boat. Aged fourteen he just held the teenage conviction that he would have an interesting life - maybe that’s why he picked the guitar? Then again, maybe if he hadn’t, he would have tripped over it. He went to University and studied Aerospace Manufacturing Engineering and Sociology, spending most lectures asleep on the floor at the back. In much the same way, he ended up in the army. In essence, one day he was sleeping off a hangover at the back of a sociology lecture hall and the next thing he knew he was in Kosovo with a gun and a guitar strapped to the side of a tank, wondering who he could possibly sleep with to get out of this war. To break up the super attenuated monotony, James would sometimes stroll through Serb villages wearing an East German cap singing, “All we are saying is give peace a chance”. “We were peace-keepers at that point,” he explained, shrugging helplessly.So how did the music get into him, you might ask? Well if you were sent to boarding school aged seven, studied Engineering by mistake (”I thought we were going to fly planes, but we just pulled metals apart - the brochure was very misleading.”), joined the army by default, guarded The Queen, buried The Queen Mother and pranced around London like a tit for Japanese tourists to photograph, what you’re going to want to do very much after that, besides getting stoned and laid, is put your gun down, pick up a guitar and make an album in America with Linda Perry. So James came to Los Angeles in September 2003 to record with Tom Rothrock et al. At night he’d go to bars, bringing with him his valuable British accent (in the U.K., too posh for some people - in LA, the best thing she’d heard all night) and the fact that like 50 Cent he’d been shot at numerous times, but unlike the Cent, had dodged the bullets. One song, “Goodbye My Lover”, was recorded in his landladies’ bathroom (”She was a frequenter of mental hospitals and in general, a freak - but pleasant”) where, naturally, she kept a piano.

From birth in a military hospital in Tidworth, to Harrow School, to Aerospace Manufacturing Engineering, to the Royal Military Academy Sandhurst, to The Household Cavalry, to Kosovo, to Buckingham Palace, to a recording studio in Los Angeles. How did James get from there to here? Only James Blunt’s hairdresser knows for certain, and either he isn’t talking or James cuts his own hair, and it’s up to you to join the dots - there are ten of them on the album.

from : http://www.james-blunt.net/