lirik lagu james mcmurtry - remembrance
[verse 1]
we’re playing the hits in tuxedos
we’re butchering elton and styx
on a cruise ship in torremolinos
a whole boatload of housewives and hicks
and tonight i can’t sleep for the drummer
he’s up talking real loud about god
i guess cocaine and cuervo and jesus
go together like peas in a pod
not long since the p-ssing of franco
the generals are singin’ the blues
el generalísimo ya está muerto
while i’m on the stairs takin’ the news
and juan carlos’ll hold free elections
democracy’s coming spain
perhaps it may prove to our liking
should the trouble not outweigh the game
for there’s not much use for innocence
in a world gone crazy and blind
those who place any faith in intelligence
must surely be out of their minds, out of their minds
[verse 2]
in the beach bars in torremolinos
they got room for the quick and the dead
they got irish and germans and disco
bl–dy marys as big as your head
“these americans can’t drink for nothin'”
an irishman says to a girl
“but surely they’ll not elect reagan
he and brezhnev’ll blow up the world
“and thatcher’s just little miss reagan
she wants to build missiles and bombs
and we don’t give tuppence for thatcher
we’ve been onto that skirt all along”
and there’s no excuse for innocence
in a world gone crazy and blind
if you place any faith in intelligence
you must surely be out of your mind, out of your mind
out of your mind
[verse 3]
en la plaza mayor de madrid
some buskers are singin’ the blues
just a couple of travelin’ kids
trying to scr-pe up a meal and a brew
doscientas cincuenta pesetas
paella for two’s all it buys
it’s a while since the p-ssing of franco
and the prices are starting to rise
an old man peruses the menu
dismay on his face clearly shows
no subieron los precios con franco
porque franco nos dijo que no
and there’s a sea of blue shirts in the bull ring
puerta nueva with fists in the air
el generalísimo ya muerto
un día, él va a volver, va a volver
un día feliz no se puede saber
cuando paso en [?]
[verse 4]
we’re still playing the hits in tuxedos
with the hostages still in tehran
as the dubliner’s dragged by his feet out the door
yelling “whose bl–dy side are you on?”
and the housewives are stumping for reagan
as we butcher van halen and rush
and the drummer looks up from the mirror
saying “jesus, what’s happened to us?”
el hombre nace, sufre, muere
the bartender says with a grin:
“you and russia keep rattling your sabers
we’ll pick up your scr-ps in the end”
en el mundo tan loco y ciego
how we love to talk loud about god
la inocencia no vale nada
ni tampoco ninguna verdad
ninguna verdad, no hay ninguna verdad
ninguna verdad, no hay ninguna verdad
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