Money --- Pink Floyd Money Get away You get a good job with more pay and you're okay Money It's a gas Grab that cash with both hands and make a stash New car, caviar, four star, daydream Think I'll buy me a football team Money Get back I'm alright, Jack, keep your hands off of my stack Money It's a hit Don't give me that do goody good bullshit I'm in the high-fidelity first-class traveling set And I think I need a Lear jet Money It's a crime Share it fairly, but don't take a slice of my pie Money So they say Is the root of all evil today But if you ask for a rise It's no surprise that they're giving none away Away, away, away Away, away, away I was in the right Yes, absolutely in the right I certainly was in the right Yeah, I was definitely in the right, that geezer was cruisin' for a bruisin' Yeah! Why does anyone do anything? I don't know, I was really drunk at the time Just telling him it was in, he could get it in number two He was asking why it wasn't coming up on freight eleven And after, I was yelling and screaming and telling him why It wasn't coming up on freight eleven https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=rwPM01cbQBc&feature=share
Why does anyone do anything? In that country where men broke stones for pennies each day, building mansions over gleaming streets, Pink Floyd's "Money," echoed against the bathroom's flesh tiles, inch squares marching from floor to walls to ceiling, the box room entirely open, no curtains, no stalls, as water from the big roof tank splashed over her naked body, over everything, late afternoon rainbow sheets draining soot and dust and sweat, soap and fret and unrequited desires, fear and fairytales and Herbal Essence -- all the ingredients of 70s teenage angst -- into a hole in the floor and out to the dry world. "Money," she sang, "get away," as if her family didn't have any, as if she wasn't a white princess up in her glittering, wet tower, flushing precious water to the hungry streets, letting it roll over her untouched body like a thousand peso coins, like invented grief.
Suggested soundtrack: Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon.
One thought on “Twenty”
Se te olvidó el alacrán que evocó gritos de pavor, corriendo para escapar la lluvia de la ducha.