Think I'll pack it in
and buy a pick-up
Take it down to L.A.
Find a place to call my own
and try to fix up.
Start a brand new day.

The woman I'm thinking of,
she loved me all up
But I'm so down today
She's so fine, she's in my mind.
I hear her callin'.

See the lonely boy,
out on the weekend
Trying to make it pay.
Can't relate to joy,
he tries to speak and
Can't begin to say.

She got pictures on the wall,
they make me look up
From her big brass bed.
Now I'm running down the road
trying to stay up
Somewhere in her head.

The woman I'm thinking of,
she loved me all up
But I'm so down today
She's so fine she's in my mind.
I hear her callin'.

See the lonely boy,
out on the weekend
Trying to make it pay.
Can't relate to joy,
he tries to speak and
Can't begin to say.


 

In questo momento sarei in vena di "on the road".


Capite cosa intendo?


Vorrei avere il T1 (e pazienza se nella vita reale non guido neanche sotto tortura), la strada sotto alle ruote, un paio di occhiali da sole ridicoli e Neil Young nello stereo.


Invece, oggi ho comprato la vernice, l'antimuffa, un paio di teli, una tuta per verniciare (di quelle in tessuto-non tessuto, che una volta indossate ti fanno sembrare un gigantesco teletubbie bianco), e tanto per tirarmi su di morale anche del karkadè e della tisana ai frutti rossi.


Mi sento on the road, ed ho le narici che continuano a sentire l'odore di ribes e di mirtillo...