Danas slušamo nešto na šta me je podsetio Igor: muziku čoveka koji je kupažu rocka i cabareta doveo do savršenstva.
Izvinite što neću da obeležim praznik licemerja. Javno ga se gadim već godinama i sve ženske osobe u mojoj okolini to znaju.
Tom Waits mi nije dao šlagvort za takav nastup. Prosto, gledam kako ljudi izigravaju nešto što liči na loše uloge u lošim predstavama u lošem pozorištu. I šta god da kažem, ispašću mizantrop. A da ponovo objašnjavam ono što sam davno već objasnio, izvinite, radije ne bih. I tu je Tom Waits legao savršeno, k’o budali šamar.
I always play Russian Roulette in my head
It’s seventeen black and twenty-nine red
How far from the gutter, how far fron the pew
I will always remember to forget about youA good man’s is hard to find
Only strangers sleep in my bed
My favorite words are good-bye
And my favorite color is red
A long dead soldier looks out from the frame
No one remembers his war; no one remembers his name
Go out to the meadow, scare off all the crows
It does nothing but rain here, and nothing will growA good man’s is hard to find
Only strangers sleep in my bed
My favorite words are good-bye
And my favorite color is red
Auh.