dreambleu
The wonderful "Hotel California" The eagles.
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Hotel California- The Eagles |
Warm smell of colitas rising up through the air
Up ahead in the distance, I saw a shimmering light
My head grew heavy, and my sight grew dimmer
I had to stop for the night
There she stood in the doorway;
I heard the mission bell
And I was thinking to myself,
'This could be Heaven or this could be Hell'
Then she lit up a candle and she showed me the way
There were voices down the corridor, I thought I heard them say...
Welcome to the Hotel California
Such a lovely place, such a lovely place
Plenty of room at the Hotel California
Any time of year, you can find it here
Her mind is Tiffany-twisted, She got the Mercedes Benz
She's got a lot of pretty, pretty boys, that she calls friends
How they dance in the courtyard, sweet summer sweat.
Some dance to remember, some dance to forget
So I called up the Captain, 'Please bring me my wine'
He said, 'We haven't had that spirit here since 1969'
And still those voices are calling from far away
Wake you up in the middle of the night
Just to hear them say...
Welcome to the Hotel California
Such a lovely place, such a lovely face
They livin' it up at the Hotel California
What a nice surprise, bring your alibis
Mirrors on the ceiling, the pink champagne on ice
And she said 'We are all just prisoners here, of our own device'
And in the master's chambers, they gathered for the feast
They stab it with their steely knives, but they just can't kill the beast
Last thing I remember, I was running for the door
I had to find the passage back to the place I was before
'Relax' said the nightman, We are programed to receive.
You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave
"Casablanca est une folle. Dans une cage.
couchee dse soleil au corniche d' Ain Diab |
"Casablanca est une folle. Dans une cage. Je la sens étouffer sous la pression . Elle aura beau me dire, comme l'autre, que ses nuits sont plus belles que mes jours, il n'en demeure pas moins qu'elle crève de ses contradictions et de son mal de vivre.
Elle a beau maquiller ses rues pour les grandes occasions, se parer de lumières et de couleurs, se raconter qu'elle vibre au rythme de la dépravation et de la fête, s'étirer de tous côtés comme si elle n'en finissait pas de grandir, afficher le vent de liberté qui souffle sur sa corniche, racoler tous les mâles à la recherche d'illusions, elle se sait perdue d'avance, parce que clinquante. Factice.
C'est d'elle pourtant, qu'un jour, vont peut-être naître les tolérances. Une folle qui connaîtra les joies de la maternité. Moi, je serai sans doute mort."
Casablanca je te deteste avec amour !
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