Cancion del dia V2.0
+103
gallagher
Charlie don't surf
Justin Time
José Cuervo
Vetustamorla
Demian
Murdock
martidl
woodie
káiser
Dust N Bones !?
jackinthebox
cesare
Un_hombre_solo
Txomin
ENEMIGO
Malkobitch
Danelectro
Perimaggot
Fan
F.I.N.E
red_shoes
Huevosconpatatas
Susie Q
tor
Dr. Hook
Gora Rock
elbrujo69
BillyBudd
Cobra
Joe Yamanaka
Spiritwalker
gaboto
Miss Brownstone
luis
Bobby Disaster
R'as Kal Bhul
Ellis
from the mars hotel
Ashra
Aurora Boreal
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Refrescospepito
Slovako
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Sugar Bug
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Eloy
Fronkonstin
freakedu
Rasputin
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haserretuta
Ricky´s Appetite
candy
Space Captain
Pris
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uM
coolfurillo
Mr. Encías
®Lucy Lynskey
Black Flamingo
SAL PARADISE
Ripple.
Trumbo
rechi or die
Seco
Nashville
el noi del sucre
Zarpas
joselette
javi clemente
blackfoot
katrastrov
Arturo Bandini
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Jincho
Donnie Vie
Emi
Nombredeusuario
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pinkpanther
JUAN
McGuffin
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clint eastwood
SEÑOR KAPLAN
Gregorio
elreycarmesi
Geme
El Puto Fary
DarthMercury
polaris
107 participantes
Página 4 de 20.
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Re: Cancion del dia V2.0
ya que esta semana ha sido de NBA, recordando esta vieja película de los setenta:
SEÑOR KAPLAN- Mensajes : 8212
Fecha de inscripción : 12/03/2009
Re: Cancion del dia V2.0
polaris escribió:
temazo!
¿te gusta la versión de bunbury?
Carolina- Mensajes : 6135
Fecha de inscripción : 18/05/2009
Re: Cancion del dia V2.0
directa al recopilatorio pachanga con la Carra, el pavo real, camilo sesto, etc ...
genial!
Carolina- Mensajes : 6135
Fecha de inscripción : 18/05/2009
Re: Cancion del dia V2.0
Sugar Bug escribió:
- Spoiler:
- Spoiler:
Carolina- Mensajes : 6135
Fecha de inscripción : 18/05/2009
Re: Cancion del dia V2.0
me recuerda el cielo rosa de Madrid ...
Carolina- Mensajes : 6135
Fecha de inscripción : 18/05/2009
Re: Cancion del dia V2.0
Bridal train con los Waifs
Reno- Mensajes : 853
Fecha de inscripción : 12/07/2008
Re: Cancion del dia V2.0
ninguna como la original ( ) pero no está mal ...
Carolina- Mensajes : 6135
Fecha de inscripción : 18/05/2009
Re: Cancion del dia V2.0
Remi Boncoeur escribió:
maravillosa ...
Carolina- Mensajes : 6135
Fecha de inscripción : 18/05/2009
Re: Cancion del dia V2.0
Carolina escribió:Remi Boncoeur escribió:
maravillosa ...
La he escuchado unas 15 veces hoy, que maravilla, sí .
Arturo Bandini- Mensajes : 10245
Fecha de inscripción : 21/01/2010
Re: Cancion del dia V2.0
Remi Boncoeur escribió:Carolina escribió:Remi Boncoeur escribió:
maravillosa ...
La he escuchado unas 15 veces hoy, que maravilla, sí .
delicioso gusto, caballero ...
Carolina- Mensajes : 6135
Fecha de inscripción : 18/05/2009
Re: Cancion del dia V2.0
porfa .... no puedo hacer más ...
Carolina- Mensajes : 6135
Fecha de inscripción : 18/05/2009
Re: Cancion del dia V2.0
Que cover se marcó isaak en los madriles, ni la de mis adorados stones.
PLdG- Mensajes : 11736
Fecha de inscripción : 26/08/2008
Re: Cancion del dia V2.0
You got to walk that lonesome valley
Well, you got to walk it for yourself
Ain't nobody else can walk it for you
You got to walk that valley for yourself
My mother had to walk that lonesome valley
Well, she had to walk it for herself
Yes, nobody else could walk it for her
Yeah, she had to walk that valley for herself
Oh yes, you got to walk that lonesome valley
Well, you got to walk it for yourself
Yes, nobody else can walk it for you
You got to walk...
My father had to walk that lonesome valley
He had to walk it for his self
Yes, nobody else can walk it for him
He had to walk...
Oh, Jesus had to walk that lonesome valley
He had to walk it for his self
Yes, nobody else could walk it for him
He had to walk that valley for his self
Oh yes, you got to walk that lonesome valley
Well, you got to walk it for yourself
Yes, nobody else can walk it for you
You got to walk that valley for yourself
Invitado- Invitado
Re: Cancion del dia V2.0
When I had you
I treated you bad and wrong my dear
Girl since since you been gone
Don't you know I sit around
With my head hanging down
And I wonder who's lovin' you
I, I, I, I should have never made you cry
And girl since since you've been gone
I sit around with my head hanging down
And I wonder who's lovin' you
Life without love is oh so lonely
I don't think I'm gonna make it
All my life, all my life belongs to you only
Come on and take it girl
Come on and take it because
All, all I can do
Since you been gone is cry
And don't you ever wonder
And worry your pretty little head
'Bout what I do
Don't you know I sit around
With my head hanging down
And I wonder who's lovin' you
Invitado- Invitado
Re: Cancion del dia V2.0
Time for the Raindance !!
celtasnake- Mensajes : 47584
Fecha de inscripción : 09/05/2008
Re: Cancion del dia V2.0
¿Estáis listos chicos?…
¡Sííí capitán!
Más fuerteee..
¡Sííí capitán!
uuuhhhh….
Él vive en la piña debajo del mar
¡Bob Esponja!
Su cuerpo amarillo absorbe sin más
¡Bob Esponja!
El mejor amigo que puedes tener
¡Bob Esponja!
Igual que los peces él puede flotar
¡Bob Esponja!
¿Listos?
¡Bob Esponja! ¡Bob Esponja!…
¡Bob Esponja ya llegóoo!…
¡Sííí capitán!
Más fuerteee..
¡Sííí capitán!
uuuhhhh….
Él vive en la piña debajo del mar
¡Bob Esponja!
Su cuerpo amarillo absorbe sin más
¡Bob Esponja!
El mejor amigo que puedes tener
¡Bob Esponja!
Igual que los peces él puede flotar
¡Bob Esponja!
¿Listos?
¡Bob Esponja! ¡Bob Esponja!…
¡Bob Esponja ya llegóoo!…
almorvi- Mensajes : 15832
Fecha de inscripción : 28/10/2008
Re: Cancion del dia V2.0
En su etapa comercial de la última década también tienen temazos para parar un tren :__)
Slovako- Mensajes : 27599
Fecha de inscripción : 25/03/2008
Re: Cancion del dia V2.0
slovako escribió:
En su etapa comercial de la última década también tienen temazos para parar un tren :__)
Slovako- Mensajes : 27599
Fecha de inscripción : 25/03/2008
Re: Cancion del dia V2.0
No se bien que día es hoyalmorvi escribió:
solo se que te vi salir
y en cinco minutos perdi
las letras para hablarte a vos
Yo se que no tengo palabras
y nunca las voy a tener
por eso aprovecho esta noche
ya ves , estoy sola otra vez
Por eso aprovecho esta noche
tal vez lo puedas entender
que no me importa poner las letras
solo me importa mi mujer
Mañana cuando te levantes
y pienses lo que dije ayer
ay viejo, en este juego
a mi siempre me toca perder, siempre
Siempre habrá vasos vacíos
con agua de la ciudad
la nuestra es agua de río
mezclada con mar
levanta los brazos mujer
y ponte esta noche a bailar
que la nuestra es agua de río
mezclada con mar
A ti te quiero decir
no te preocupes mi amor
que yo te voy a entender
que yo te voy a querer
Siempre habrá vasos vacíos
con agua de la ciudad
la nuestra es agua de río
mezclada con mar
levanta los brazos mujer
y ponte esta noche a bailar
que la nuestra es agua de río
mezclada con mar
almorvi- Mensajes : 15832
Fecha de inscripción : 28/10/2008
Re: Cancion del dia V2.0
Siempre habrá vasos vacíosalmorvi escribió:No se bien que día es hoyalmorvi escribió:
solo se que te vi salir
y en cinco minutos perdi
las letras para hablarte a vos
Yo se que no tengo palabras
y nunca las voy a tener
por eso aprovecho esta noche
ya ves , estoy sola otra vez
Por eso aprovecho esta noche
tal vez lo puedas entender
que no me importa poner las letras
solo me importa mi mujer
Mañana cuando te levantes
y pienses lo que dije ayer
ay viejo, en este juego
a mi siempre me toca perder, siempre
Siempre habrá vasos vacíos
con agua de la ciudad
la nuestra es agua de río
mezclada con mar
levanta los brazos mujer
y ponte esta noche a bailar
que la nuestra es agua de río
mezclada con mar
A ti te quiero decir
no te preocupes mi amor
que yo te voy a entender
que yo te voy a querer
Siempre habrá vasos vacíos
con agua de la ciudad
la nuestra es agua de río
mezclada con mar
levanta los brazos mujer
y ponte esta noche a bailar
que la nuestra es agua de río
mezclada con mar
con agua de la ciudad
la nuestra es agua de río
mezclada con mar
levanta los brazos mujer
y ponte esta noche a bailar
que la nuestra es agua de río
mezclada con mar
- Spoiler:
almorvi- Mensajes : 15832
Fecha de inscripción : 28/10/2008
Re: Cancion del dia V2.0
Redd Kross
It's The Little Things
It's The Little Things
Carolina- Mensajes : 6135
Fecha de inscripción : 18/05/2009
Re: Cancion del dia V2.0
slovako escribió:
En su etapa comercial de la última década también tienen temazos para parar un tren :__)
De hecho me parece una de las mejores del By The Way.
McLovin- Mensajes : 7315
Fecha de inscripción : 25/03/2010
Re: Cancion del dia V2.0
How I wish, how I wish you were here...
McLovin- Mensajes : 7315
Fecha de inscripción : 25/03/2010
Re: Cancion del dia V2.0
Aunque a las 20:30 será esta:
Curtis Loew- Mensajes : 10301
Fecha de inscripción : 24/03/2008
Re: Cancion del dia V2.0
ahora mismo en mi calle suena esto.
no tan bien, pero para ser un perroflauta con una trompeta roñosa, aceptable...
no tan bien, pero para ser un perroflauta con una trompeta roñosa, aceptable...
Re: Cancion del dia V2.0
Como ha sido un dia tan largo...
Mas que una cancion,he tenido varias:
Mas que una cancion,he tenido varias:
McLovin- Mensajes : 7315
Fecha de inscripción : 25/03/2010
Re: Cancion del dia V2.0
"Waldo Jeffers had reached his limit. It was now Mid-August which meant he had been separated from Marsha for more than two months. Two months, and all he had to show was three dog-eared letters and two very expensive long-distance phone calls. True, when school had ended and she'd returned to Wisconsin, and he to Locust, Pennsylvania, she had sworn to maintain a certain fidelity. She would date occasionally, but merely as amusement. She would remain faithful.
But lately Waldo had begun to worry. He had trouble sleeping at night and when he did, he had horrible dreams. He lay awake at night, tossing and turning underneath his pleated quilt protector, tears welling in his eyes as he
pictured Marsha, her sworn vows overcome by liquor and the smooth soothing of some neanderthal, finally submitting to the final caresses of sexual oblivion.
It was more than the human mind could bear.
Visions of Marsha's faithlessness haunted him. Daytime fantasies of sexual
abandon permeated his thoughts. And the thing was, they wouldn't understand how she really was. He, Waldo, alone understood this. He had intuitively grasped every nook and cranny of her psyche. He had made her smile. She needed him, and he wasn't there (Awww...).
The idea came to him on the Thursday before the Mummers' Parade was scheduled to appear. He'd just finished mowing and edging the Edelsons lawn for a dollar fifty and had checked the mailbox to see if there was at least a word from Marsha. There was nothing but a circular from the Amalgamated Aluminum Company of America inquiring into his awing needs. At least they cared enough to write.
It was a New York company. You could go anywhere in the mails. Then it struck him. He didn't have enough money to go to Wisconsin in the accepted fashion, true, but why not mail himself? It was absurdly simple. He would ship himself parcel post, special delivery. The next day Waldo went to the supermarket to purchase the necessary equipment. He bought masking tape, a staple gun and a medium sized cardboard box just right for a person of his build. He judged that with a minimum of jostling he could ride quite comfortably. A few airholes, some water, perhaps some midnight snacks, and it would probably be as good as going tourist.
By Friday afternoon, Waldo was set. He was thoroughly packed and the post
office had agreed to pick him up at three o'clock. He'd marked the package
"Fragile", and as he sat curled up inside, resting on the foam rubber
cushioning he'd thoughtfully included, he tried to picture the look of awe and
happiness on Marshas face as she opened her door, saw the package, tipped the deliverer, and then opened it to see her Waldo finally there in person. She would kiss him, and then maybe they could see a movie. If he'd only thought of this before. Suddenly rough hands gripped his package and he felt himself borned up. He landed with a thud in a truck and was off.
Marsha Bronson had just finished setting her hair. It had been a very rough
weekend. She had to remember not to drink like that. Bill had been nice about it though. After it was over he'd said he still respected her and, after all, it was certainly the way of nature, and even though, no he didn't love her, he did feel an affection for her. And after all, they were grown adults. Oh, what Bill could teach Waldo - but that seemed many years ago.
Sheila Klein, her very, very best friend, walked in through the porch screen
door and into the kitchen. "Oh gawd, it's absolutely maudlin outside." "Ach, I
know what you mean, I feel all icky!" Marsha tightened the belt on her cotton
robe with the silk outer edge. Sheila ran her finger over some salt grains on
the kitchen table, licked her finger and made a face. "I'm supposed to be
taking these salt pills, but," she wrinkled her nose, "they make me feel like
throwing up." Marsha started to pat herself under the chin, an exercise she'd
seen on television. "God, don't even talk about that." She got up from the
table and went to the sink where she picked up a bottle of pink and blue
vitamins. "Want one? Supposed to be better than steak," and then attempted to touch her knees. "I don't think I'll ever touch a daiquiri again."
She gave up and sat down, this time nearer the small table that supported the telephone. "Maybe Bill'll call," she said to Sheila's glance. Sheila nibbled on a cuticle. "After last night, I thought maybe you'd be through with him." "I
know what you mean. My God, he was like an octopus. Hands all over the place." She gestured, raising her arms upwards in defense. "The thing is, after a while, you get tired of fighting with him, you know, and after all I didn't
really do anything Friday and Saturday so I kind of owed it to him. You know
what I mean." She started to scratch. Sheila was giggling with her hand over
her mouth. "I'll tell you, I felt the same way, and even after a while," here
she bent forward in a whisper, "I wanted to!" Now she was laughing very loudly.
It was at this point that Mr. Jameson of the Clarence Darrow Post Office rang
the doorbell of the large stucco colored frame house. When Marsha Bronson
opened the door, he helped her carry the package in. He had his yellow and his green slips of paper signed and left with a fifteen cent tip that Marsha had gotten out of her mother's small beige pocketbook in the den. "What do you think it is?" Sheila asked. Marsha stood with her arms folded behind her back. She stared at the brown cardboard carton that sat in the middle of the living room. "I dunno."
Inside the package, Waldo quivered with excitement as he listened to the
muffled voices. Sheila ran her fingernail over the masking tape that ran down
the center of the carton. "Why don't you look at the return address and see who it's from?" Waldo felt his heart beating. He could feel the vibrating footsteps. It would be soon.
Marsha walked around the carton and read the ink-scratched label. "Ah, god,
it's from Waldo!" "That schmuck!" said Sheila. Waldo trembled with expectation.
"Well, you might as well open it," said Sheila. Both of them tried to lift the
staple flap. "Ah sst," said Marsha, groaning, "he must have nailed it shut."
They tugged on the flap again. "My God, you need a power drill to get this
thing open!" They pulled again. "You can't get a grip." They both stood still,
breathing heavily.
"Why don't you get a scissor," said Sheila. Marsha ran into the kitchen, but
all she could find was a little sewing scissor. Then she remembered that her
father kept a collection of tools in the basement. She ran downstairs, and when she came back up, she had a large sheet metal cutter in her hand. "This is the best I could find." She was very out of breath. "Here, you do it. I-I'm gonna die." She sank into a large fluffy couch and exhaled noisily. Sheila tried to make a slit between the masking tape and the end of the cardboard flap, but the blade was too big and there wasn't enough
room. "God damn this thing!" she said feeling very exasperated. Then smiling, "I got an idea." "What?" said Marsha. "Just watch," said Sheila, touching her finger to her head.
Inside the package, Waldo was so transfixed with excitement that he could
barely breathe. His skin felt prickly from the heat, and he could feel his
heart beating in his throat. It would be soon. Sheila stood quite upright and
walked around to the other side of the package. Then she sank down to her
knees, grasped the cutter by both handles, took a deep breath, and plunged the long blade through the middle of the package, through the masking tape, through the cardboard, through the cushioning and (thud!) right through the center of Waldo Jeffers head, which split slightly and caused little rhythmic arcs of red to pulsate gently in the morning sun."
But lately Waldo had begun to worry. He had trouble sleeping at night and when he did, he had horrible dreams. He lay awake at night, tossing and turning underneath his pleated quilt protector, tears welling in his eyes as he
pictured Marsha, her sworn vows overcome by liquor and the smooth soothing of some neanderthal, finally submitting to the final caresses of sexual oblivion.
It was more than the human mind could bear.
Visions of Marsha's faithlessness haunted him. Daytime fantasies of sexual
abandon permeated his thoughts. And the thing was, they wouldn't understand how she really was. He, Waldo, alone understood this. He had intuitively grasped every nook and cranny of her psyche. He had made her smile. She needed him, and he wasn't there (Awww...).
The idea came to him on the Thursday before the Mummers' Parade was scheduled to appear. He'd just finished mowing and edging the Edelsons lawn for a dollar fifty and had checked the mailbox to see if there was at least a word from Marsha. There was nothing but a circular from the Amalgamated Aluminum Company of America inquiring into his awing needs. At least they cared enough to write.
It was a New York company. You could go anywhere in the mails. Then it struck him. He didn't have enough money to go to Wisconsin in the accepted fashion, true, but why not mail himself? It was absurdly simple. He would ship himself parcel post, special delivery. The next day Waldo went to the supermarket to purchase the necessary equipment. He bought masking tape, a staple gun and a medium sized cardboard box just right for a person of his build. He judged that with a minimum of jostling he could ride quite comfortably. A few airholes, some water, perhaps some midnight snacks, and it would probably be as good as going tourist.
By Friday afternoon, Waldo was set. He was thoroughly packed and the post
office had agreed to pick him up at three o'clock. He'd marked the package
"Fragile", and as he sat curled up inside, resting on the foam rubber
cushioning he'd thoughtfully included, he tried to picture the look of awe and
happiness on Marshas face as she opened her door, saw the package, tipped the deliverer, and then opened it to see her Waldo finally there in person. She would kiss him, and then maybe they could see a movie. If he'd only thought of this before. Suddenly rough hands gripped his package and he felt himself borned up. He landed with a thud in a truck and was off.
Marsha Bronson had just finished setting her hair. It had been a very rough
weekend. She had to remember not to drink like that. Bill had been nice about it though. After it was over he'd said he still respected her and, after all, it was certainly the way of nature, and even though, no he didn't love her, he did feel an affection for her. And after all, they were grown adults. Oh, what Bill could teach Waldo - but that seemed many years ago.
Sheila Klein, her very, very best friend, walked in through the porch screen
door and into the kitchen. "Oh gawd, it's absolutely maudlin outside." "Ach, I
know what you mean, I feel all icky!" Marsha tightened the belt on her cotton
robe with the silk outer edge. Sheila ran her finger over some salt grains on
the kitchen table, licked her finger and made a face. "I'm supposed to be
taking these salt pills, but," she wrinkled her nose, "they make me feel like
throwing up." Marsha started to pat herself under the chin, an exercise she'd
seen on television. "God, don't even talk about that." She got up from the
table and went to the sink where she picked up a bottle of pink and blue
vitamins. "Want one? Supposed to be better than steak," and then attempted to touch her knees. "I don't think I'll ever touch a daiquiri again."
She gave up and sat down, this time nearer the small table that supported the telephone. "Maybe Bill'll call," she said to Sheila's glance. Sheila nibbled on a cuticle. "After last night, I thought maybe you'd be through with him." "I
know what you mean. My God, he was like an octopus. Hands all over the place." She gestured, raising her arms upwards in defense. "The thing is, after a while, you get tired of fighting with him, you know, and after all I didn't
really do anything Friday and Saturday so I kind of owed it to him. You know
what I mean." She started to scratch. Sheila was giggling with her hand over
her mouth. "I'll tell you, I felt the same way, and even after a while," here
she bent forward in a whisper, "I wanted to!" Now she was laughing very loudly.
It was at this point that Mr. Jameson of the Clarence Darrow Post Office rang
the doorbell of the large stucco colored frame house. When Marsha Bronson
opened the door, he helped her carry the package in. He had his yellow and his green slips of paper signed and left with a fifteen cent tip that Marsha had gotten out of her mother's small beige pocketbook in the den. "What do you think it is?" Sheila asked. Marsha stood with her arms folded behind her back. She stared at the brown cardboard carton that sat in the middle of the living room. "I dunno."
Inside the package, Waldo quivered with excitement as he listened to the
muffled voices. Sheila ran her fingernail over the masking tape that ran down
the center of the carton. "Why don't you look at the return address and see who it's from?" Waldo felt his heart beating. He could feel the vibrating footsteps. It would be soon.
Marsha walked around the carton and read the ink-scratched label. "Ah, god,
it's from Waldo!" "That schmuck!" said Sheila. Waldo trembled with expectation.
"Well, you might as well open it," said Sheila. Both of them tried to lift the
staple flap. "Ah sst," said Marsha, groaning, "he must have nailed it shut."
They tugged on the flap again. "My God, you need a power drill to get this
thing open!" They pulled again. "You can't get a grip." They both stood still,
breathing heavily.
"Why don't you get a scissor," said Sheila. Marsha ran into the kitchen, but
all she could find was a little sewing scissor. Then she remembered that her
father kept a collection of tools in the basement. She ran downstairs, and when she came back up, she had a large sheet metal cutter in her hand. "This is the best I could find." She was very out of breath. "Here, you do it. I-I'm gonna die." She sank into a large fluffy couch and exhaled noisily. Sheila tried to make a slit between the masking tape and the end of the cardboard flap, but the blade was too big and there wasn't enough
room. "God damn this thing!" she said feeling very exasperated. Then smiling, "I got an idea." "What?" said Marsha. "Just watch," said Sheila, touching her finger to her head.
Inside the package, Waldo was so transfixed with excitement that he could
barely breathe. His skin felt prickly from the heat, and he could feel his
heart beating in his throat. It would be soon. Sheila stood quite upright and
walked around to the other side of the package. Then she sank down to her
knees, grasped the cutter by both handles, took a deep breath, and plunged the long blade through the middle of the package, through the masking tape, through the cardboard, through the cushioning and (thud!) right through the center of Waldo Jeffers head, which split slightly and caused little rhythmic arcs of red to pulsate gently in the morning sun."
Pris- Mensajes : 1872
Fecha de inscripción : 17/09/2009
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