Con buena letra 2: Dirty Boulevard by Lou Reed

No parece el tipo más simpático del mundo ni de lejos. Su descomunal ego y carácter agrio le han labrado una reputación de borde bien merecida. Moviéndose siempre con la vanguardia y con un aire intelectual, que en ciertos circulos le perjudica mucho, no se puede obviar que Lou Reed es uno de los mejores escritores de canciones del rock. Tanto en su etapa con la Velvet como en su carrera en solitario hay multitud de canciones que nos muestran que en el rock´n roll en ocasiones puede haber incluso buena literatura. Poco sujetos como Lou han penetrado con tanto acierto en la Gran Manzana. Del imprescindible New York ahí va Dirty Boulevard.

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 hes too tired to beg

Hes got 9 brothers and sistersTheyre brought up on their knees

Its hard to run when a coat hanger beats you on the thighs

Pedro dreams of being older and killing the old man

But thats a slim chance hes going to the boulevard

Hes going to end up, on the dirty boulevardHes going out, to the dirty boulevard

Hes going down, to the dirty boulevard

This room cost 2,000 dollars a month

You can believe it man its true

Somewhere a landlords 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

Ill piss on emThats what the statue of bigotry says

Your poor huddled masses, lets 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

Hes going down, on the dirty boulevard

Going out Outside its a bright night

Theres 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

Hes selling plastic roses for a buck

The traffics 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

Hes 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 boulevardI want to fly,

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

I want to fly awayI want to flyFly, fly awayI 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)