La canción de hoy de Herrera: “Dirty Blvd” de Lou Reed

Para este miércoles, ecuador de la semana, no hay nada mejor que la canción del día en 'Herrera en COPE', una 'canción protesta' del gran Lou Reed: “Dirty Blvd”.

“Es la historia de una canción…

Lou Reed, inolvidable siempre, allá por el 89 uno de sus discos conceptuales llevaba una pieza, bueno el disco estaba dedicado a Nueva York (New York), pero era una dura crítica social a la ciudad. Consideraba que había que cantar canciones como este “Dirty Blvd”, desolador relato entre la diferencia entre ricos y pobres.

Dame tu hambre, tu cansancio, tu pobreza que yo orinaré en ellas

Lo haré llegando al final de este sucio Boulevard

Letra de la canción “Dirty Blvd” de Lou Reed

Pedro lives out of the Wilshire Hotel

he looks out a window without glass

The walls are made of cardboard, newspapers on his feet

his father beats him 'cause he's too tired to beg

He's got 9 brothers and sisters

they're brought up on their knees

it's hard to run when a coat hanger beats you on the thighs

Pedro dreams of being older and killing the old man

but that's a slim chance he's going to the boulevard

He's going to end up, on the dirty boulevard

he's going out, to the dirty boulevard

He's going down, to the dirty boulevard

This room cost 2, 000 dollars a month

you can believe it man it's true

somewhere a landlord's laughing till he wets his pants

No one here dreams of being a doctor or a lawyer or anything

they dream of dealing on the dirty boulevard

Give me your hungry, your tired your poor I'll piss on 'em

that's what the Statue of Bigotry says

Your poor huddled masses, let's club 'em to death

and get it over with and just dump 'em on the boulevard

Get to end up, on the dirty boulevard

going out, to the dirty boulevard

He's going down, on the dirty boulevard

going out

Outside it's a bright night

there's an opera at Lincoln Center

movie stars arrive by limousine

The klieg lights shoot up over the skyline of Manhattan

but the lights are out on the Mean Streets

A small kid stands by the Lincoln Tunnel

he's selling plastic roses for a buck

The traffic's backed up to 39th street

the TV whores are calling the cops out for a suck

And back at the Wilshire, Pedro sits there dreaming

he's found a book on magic in a garbage can

He looks at the pictures and stares at the cracked ceiling

"At the count of 3" he says, "I hope I can disappear"

And fly fly away, from this dirty boulevard

I want to fly, from dirty boulevard

I want to fly, from dirty boulevard

I want to fly-fly-fly-fly, from dirty boulevard

I want to fly away

I want to fly

Fly, fly away

I want to fly

Fly-fly away (Fly a-)

fly-fly-fly (-way, ooohhh...)

Fly-fly away (I want to fly-fly away)

fly away (I want to fly, wow-woh, no, fly away)