resurse - 4

O blonda intr-un magazin...
- Nu va suparati... aveti ceva de omorat moliile?
- Da sigur!
- Pai as dori si eu un pachet.
Vanzatoarea ii da o punguta cu 5 bile de naftalina.. pleaca blonda bucuroasa.
A doua zi... vine blonda iar:
- Doamna .. mai aveti bilute din alea pentru molii?
- Da ...
- Dar o punga mai mare aveti?
- Da. Ii da vazatoarea o punga cu 10 bile.. pleaca blonda.. a doua zi se intoarce iar.
- Doamna.. mai aveti bilute dinalea?
- Da..
- Dati-mi cea mai mare punga pe care o aveti!
Ii da azatoarea o punga cu 50 de bilute.. pleca blonda si a doua zi.. iar...
- Doamna.. mai vreau bile...
- Pai ce faceti doamna cu ele? Cate molii aveti?
- Una doamna .. dar nu o nimeresc!!!!

A cockroach in the concrete, courthouse tan and beady eyes.
A slouch with fallen arches, purging truths into great lies.
A little man with a big eraser, changing history
Procedures that he's programmed to, all he hears and sees.

Altering the facts and figures, events and every issue.
Make a person disappear, and no one will ever miss you.

Rewrites every story, every poem that ever was.
Eliminates incompetence, and those who break the laws.
Follow the instructions of the New Ways' Evil Book of Rules.
Replacing rights with wrongs, the files and records in the schools.

You say you've got the answers, well who asked you anyway?
Ever think maybe it was meant to be this way?
Don't try to fool us, we know the worst is yet to come.
I believe my kingdom will come.

F is for fighting, R is for red,
Ancestors' blood in battles they've shed.
E, we elect them, E, we eject them,
In the land of the free, and the home of the brave.
D, for your dying, O, your overture,
M, they will cover your grave with manure.
This spells out freedom, it means nothing to me,
As long as there's a P.M.R.C.

F is for fighting, R is for red,
Ancestors' blood in battles they've shed.
E, we elect them, E, we eject them,
In the land of the free and the home of the brave.
D, for your dying, O, your overture,
M is for money and you know what that cures.
This spells out freedom, it means nothing to me,
As long as there's a P.M.R.C.

Put your hand right up my shirt,
Pull the strings that make me work,
Jaws will part, words fall out,
like a fish with hook in mouth.

Rewrites every story, every poem that ever was.
Eliminates incompetence, and those who break the laws.
Follow the instructions of the New Ways' Evil Book of Rules.
Replacing rights with wrongs, the files and records in the schools.

I'm not a fish
Hook in mouth
I'm a man

nu imi apartzine, e geniala, have a good one!

Oh, the weather outside is frightful,
But the fire is so delightful,
And since we've no place to go,
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.

It doesn't show signs of stopping,
And I brought some corn for popping;
The lights are turned way down low,
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.

When we finally say good night,
How I'll hate going out in the storm;
But if you really hold me tight,
All the way home I'll be warm.

The fire is slowly dying,
And, my dear, we're still good-bye-ing,
But as long as you love me so.
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.

No more tears, my heart is dry
I don't laugh and I don't cry
I don't think about you all the time
But when I do – I wonder why

You have to go out of my door
And leave just like you did before
I know I said that I was sure
But rich men can't imagine poor.

One day baby, we'll be old
Oh baby, we'll be old
And think of all the stories that we could have told

Little me and little you
Kept doing all the things they do
They never really think it through
Like I can never think you're true

Here I go again – the blame
The guilt, the pain, the hurt, the shame
The founding fathers of our plane
That's stuck in heavy clouds of rain.

One day baby, we'll be old
Oh baby, we'll be old
And think of all the storïes that we could have told.