El sueño de ver a Neil Young

Desde hace bastante tiempo venimos coqueteando con la idea de asistir a un concierto del gran Neil Young. Pues ya todos los arreglos están hechos y en octubre 30 estaremos en los Angeles, California cerca del Maestro y disfrutando de  su nuevo proyecto musical: Chrome Dreams II. Y para ir calentando los motores estoy escuchando una de las canciones de ese CD titulada Ordinary People (Gracias como siempre a Neil Young Noticias por mantenerme al día en todo lo relacionado a Neil Young):

[audio:http://thesongdog.rusties.net/sounds/wxpn_op128.mp3]

Two out of work models and a fashion slave

try to dance away the Michelob night.
The bartender poured himself another drink,
while two drunks were watching the fight.
The champ went down, then he got up again,
then he went out like a light, Fighting for the people.
But his timing wasn’t right, the high rolling people.
Taking limos in the neon light, Las Vegas people.
Who came to see a Las Vegas fight, fighting for the people.
There’s a man in the window with a big cigar,
says everything’s for sale.
He had a house and a boat and a railroad car,
the owner’s gotta go to jail.
He acquired these things from a life of crime,
now he’s selling them to make bail.
He was ripping off the people.
Selling guns to the underground,
living off the people.
Skimming the top when there was no one around,
trying to help the people.
Lose their ass for a piece of ground,
a patch of ground people.
He was dealing antiques in a hardware store,
but he sure had a lot to hide.
He had a back room full of the guns of war,
and a ton of ammunition besides.
Well, he walked with a cane, kept a bolt on the door
with five pit bulls inside,
Just a warning to the people.
In case they might try to break in at night,
protection from the people.
Selling safety in the darkest night,
trying to help the people.
Get the drugs to the street all right,
trying to help the people.
Well, it’s hard to say where a man goes wrong,
might be here and it might be there.
What starts out weak might get too strong,
if you can’t tell foul from fair.
But it’s hard to judge from an angry throng
of hands stretched up in the air.
The vigilante people.
Taking the law into their own hands,
the conscientious people. Hey.
Cracking down on the drug lord and his bands,
government people. Hey.
Confiscating all the dealer’s land,
the patch-of-ground people.
And then a new Rolls Royce and a company car
they were racing down the street.
Each one trying to make it to the gate,
before employees manned the fleet.
The trucks full of products for the modern home,
were set to roll out into the street
Of ordinary people.
Trying to make their way to work,
the downtown people.
Some are saints, and some are jerks,
— that’s me — everyday people.
Stopping for a drink on their way to work,
alcoholic people.
Taking it one day at a time!
Down on the assembly line,
they keep putting the same things out.
The people today,
they just ain’t buying, nobody can figure it out.
They try like hell to build a quality in,
they’re working hard without a doubt.
Ordinary people.
But the dollar’s what it’s all about,
Lee Iacocca people.
But the customers are walking out,
the «nose to the stone» people.
They look but they just don’t buy,
the patch of ground people.
In a dusty town the clock struck high noon,
two men stood face to face.
One wore black and one wore white,
but of fear there wasn’t a trace.
A hundred and eighty years later
two hot rods drag through the very same place.
A half a million people.
They moved in to pick up the pace,
a factory full of people.
Making parts to go to outer space,
a train load of people.
They were leaving for another place,
out of town people.
Down at the factory,
they’re putting new windows in.
The vandals made a mess of things
and the homeless just walked right in.
Well, they worked here once and they live here now,
but they might work here again.
The ordinary people.
Because they’re living in a dream,
hard working people.
Just don’t know what it means to give up people.
They’re just like they used to be,
patch of ground people.
Out on the railroad track,
they’re cleaning old number nine.
They’re scrubbing the boiler down,
she really is looking fine — a beauty, that number nine —
Times will be different soon,
they’re gonna bring her back on line.
Ordinary people.
They’re gonna bring the good things back,
hard working people.
They put the business back on track,
the everyday people.
I got faith in the regular kind,
patch of ground people.