Los vientos son hijos del Sol. Fluyen. Sin él no serían más que caóticas sopas de moléculas sin vida. Atraparlos, tejerlos y liberarlos, esa es nuestra misión.

sábado, 18 de abril de 2009

Growin like a breeze

La música country. La hija que todos querrían haber tenido. Un cantante piloto o un piloto cantante. Grease y Xanadu, o aquellos maravillosos años de la EGB. El compromiso social de él (y de ella). En definitiva, dos formas de ver el mundo y una misma letra.





Almost heaven, west virginia
Blue ridge mountains
Shenandoah river -
Life is old there
Older than the trees
Younger than the mountains
Growin like a breeze

Country roads, take me home
To the place I belong
West virginia, mountain momma
Take me home, country roads

All my memories gathered round her
Miners lady, stranger to blue water
Dark and dusty, painted on the sky
Misty taste of moonshine
Teardrops in my eye

Country roads, take me home
To the place I belong
West virginia, mountain momma
Take me home, country roads

I hear her voice
In the mornin hour she calls me
The radio reminds me of my home far away
And drivin down the road I get a feelin
That I should have been home yesterday, yesterday

Country roads, take me home
To the place I belong
West virginia, mountain momma
Take me home, country roads

Country roads, take me home
To the place I belong
West virginia, mountain momma
Take me home, country roads
Take me home, now country roads
Take me home, now country roads

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