Newsgroup: it.arti.musica.rock
Titolo: happy hour

Dicono che tutto 
sia comunque scritto 
quindi tanto vale che non sudi 
nasci da incendiario 
muori da pompiere 
dicono che devi 
proprio farti fuori 
se vuoi fare il rock in qualche modo 
che ti portiamo i fiori 
lì nei cimiteri mitici 
sei già dentro l'happy hour 
vivere vivere costa la metà 
quanto costa fare finta 
di essere una star? 
dicono che nasci solo per soffrire 
ma se soffri bene vinci il premio 
di consolazione 
chi non salta l'eccezione è 
dicono cge i sogni - sono tutti 
gratis - ma son quasi tutti quanti 
usati - copriti per bene - che non 
ti conviene il mondo qui 
Sei già dentro l'happy hour - vivere vivere 
costa la metà - quanto costa fare finta 
di essere una star ? sei già dentro l'happy 
hour - vivere vivere solo la metà 
e la vita che non spendi che interessi avrà? 
si può però morire vivendo sempre e solo 
per sentito dire - si può però morire 
per la fame che non hai 
dicono che il cielo 
ti fa stare in riga 
che all'inferno si può far casino 
mentre il purgatorio te lo devi proprio infliggere 
Sei già dentro l'happy hour - vivere vivere costa 
la metà - quanto costa fare finta di essere una star ? 
sei già dentro l'happy 
hour - vivere vivere solo la metà 
e la vita che non spendi che interessi avrà?
ligabue
-- 
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Gli housemartins cantavano:
It's happy hour again
I think I might be happy if I wasn't out with them
And they're happy its a lovely place to be
Happy that the fire is real the barman is a she
Where the haircuts smile
And the meaning of style
Is a night out with the bass
Where you win or you lose
And it's them who choose
And if you don't win then youve lost
What a good place to be
Don't believe it
cause they speak a different language
And it's never really happened to me
{it's happy hour again}
Don't believe it
cause they speak a different language
And it's never really happened to me
{it's happy hour again}
It's another night out with the boss
Following in footsteps overgrown with moss
And they tell me that women grow on trees
And if you catch them right they will land upon their knees
Where they open all their wallets
And they close all their minds
And they love to buy you all a drink
And then we ask all the questions
And you take all your clothes off
And go back to the kitchen sink

 Gli housemartins cantavano:
Ce n'e` di alcool che circola eh? :-P
rilancio:
Marillion, Hotel hobbies
Hotel hobbies padding dawns hollow corridors 
Bell boys checking out the hookers in the bar 
Slug-like fingers trace the star-spangled clouds of cocaine on the
mirror 
The short straw took its bow
The tell tale tocking of the last cigarette 
Marking time in the packet as the whisky sweat 
Lies like discarded armour on an unmade bed 
And a familiar craving is crawling in his head
And the only sign of life is the ticking of the pen 
Introducing characters to memories like old friends 
Frantic as a cardiograph scratching out the lines 
A fever of confession a catalogue of crime in happy hour
Do you cry in happy hour, do you hide in happy hour 
The pilgrimage to happy hour
New shadows tugging at the corner of his eye 
Jostling for attention as the sunlight flares 
Through a curtains tear, shuffling its beams 
As if in nervous anticipation of another day
Peter Hammill, Happy hour
Fuelled by alcohol,
shooting out words like a rocket,
like a prophet out of Babylon
method acting the absurd....
Shoot me those highballs
till I'm lit up like I'm plugged in a socket;
lock me eyeball to eyeball,
let's not bother with the words.
Oh, bring on the clowns, bring on the night,
pour me double vision in black and white.
I'm falling, falling - don't give me that look!
I'm falling, falling, it's the oldest trick in the book,
My chickadee, my passion flower,
show me the way to the Happy Hour.
 
I don't like to see that:
oh, no, I don't like the way the hand is shaking,
shape-making like an acrobat
on his way to the trapeze.
My friends in the crowd
are all taking bets -
they're taking away the safety net.
Falling, falling - don't give me that look!
I'm falling, only falling, it's the oldest trick in the book,
vertigo on the high-wire tower -
is this really what they mean by 'Happy Hour`?
 
The line between the social and the suicidal
so fine he might not know when he's crossed it,
when he's lost it;
when the social kick becomes the gauging-stick of survival.
 
So here's to the circus,
let's drink to the game of forgetting
the marionette strings that jerk us,
the real world just outside the door.
I know that my legs have gone
and I know that the light here is far from perfect...
I've rehearsed it, so I'll carry on
until I wind up on the floor.
 
My friends in the bar
will stand me a round,
they'll toast me on my way to the underground.
I'm falling, falling - don't give me that look!
I'm falling, only falling, it's the oldest trick in the book,
My chickadee, my passion flower,
show me the way to the Happy Hour.
Vertigo on the high-wire tower -
is this really what they mean by 'Happy Hour`?
 
Put on the greasepaint, we're getting ready for Happy Hour.
Do you hear me now? Can you feel me now?
I'm in the middle of Happy Hour...
Put on the greasepaint.
-- 
@}-,---',-'----,-'-,-'--,-',---,'--'-,-',- Masque
`,