The wonderful evening.
The stage of Shea Stadium in New York before us is immense and there are fifty thousand people waiting to hear you play. The sight and the screams are coming the goose bumps. But something is wrong, the band does not turn black and I'm pissed off. Joe Strummer and Mick Jones is mad as hens peck, Paul Simonon is sitting on the sidelines and they forgot about everything and Topper Headon, as usual, is doped up to heroin.
Here goes all to hell. But the Clash
me motherfuckers, mettetevelo that into your head and if tonight does not sound like God intended, I jumped off the stage to kick ass.
Strap on my trusty telecaster, the volume is at maximum. The other finalists are placed in their place, waiting for a sign from me to begin with. Ugly bitches, I'll deal with you after the concert.
You go on stage and start with Should I Stay Or Should I Go, are only two chords, but the riff that comes out is a devastating punch to the stomach. This piece, a little 'mods and a little' punk, does raise the dead and it is best to open the evening.
... Darling you gotta let me know Should I Stay Or Should I go ...?
The crowd is delirious, better than that we could not start. We do well in with picks and other people will not save. Jump and run like a man possessed and with my guitar Sferro blows to right and left.
... This indecisions bugging me Esta undecision me molesta ...
The stadium has run on fire. I sweat and spit blood on the public anger and vomiting all my adrenaline. Under the stage pogano which is a beauty. I'm the king of rock'n roll I'm in charge here and I want to see you busting, beat the living daylights and fell to the ground bleeding, because that's how it's done.
... Me tienes que desir Should I cool it or should i blow? ...
The piece is finished. The ovation from the crowd splits the eardrums of most of our decibel marshall but while I enjoy the moment, the door of my room opens. The door is the huge figure of my father in his underwear and tank top, her mouth is smeared with sauce and the look of one who hath been poisoned angry and left the table while he was eating. I remain petrified with fear. Approaching at a slow pace and with a face that does not bode well. Reach out exaggerated the size, I close my eyes instantly. I hear the stereo volume drop and when I open my eyes I find him to ten inches from me. Pants from his nose like a bull at the bullfight.
He goes slamming the door. The room shakes under a fifth of the earthquake on the Richter scale and the shelves fall knickknacks and furnishings. Immediately turn off the stereo when he does that because it is better not upset. I take the disc from the dish with extreme care and put it in a cardboard case, this bootleg of the concert of The Clash at Shea Stadium has cost me a fortune but it was worth it. But tomorrow, I put on The Song Remain The Same, the live Led Zeppelin, then braced my legendary Gibson Les Paul, and so let's see who the fag that hangs on me and Jimmy Page.
Yes, I just want to see.
The stage of Shea Stadium in New York before us is immense and there are fifty thousand people waiting to hear you play. The sight and the screams are coming the goose bumps. But something is wrong, the band does not turn black and I'm pissed off. Joe Strummer and Mick Jones is mad as hens peck, Paul Simonon is sitting on the sidelines and they forgot about everything and Topper Headon, as usual, is doped up to heroin.
Here goes all to hell. But the Clash
me motherfuckers, mettetevelo that into your head and if tonight does not sound like God intended, I jumped off the stage to kick ass.
Strap on my trusty telecaster, the volume is at maximum. The other finalists are placed in their place, waiting for a sign from me to begin with. Ugly bitches, I'll deal with you after the concert.
You go on stage and start with Should I Stay Or Should I Go, are only two chords, but the riff that comes out is a devastating punch to the stomach. This piece, a little 'mods and a little' punk, does raise the dead and it is best to open the evening.
... Darling you gotta let me know Should I Stay Or Should I go ...?
The crowd is delirious, better than that we could not start. We do well in with picks and other people will not save. Jump and run like a man possessed and with my guitar Sferro blows to right and left.
... This indecisions bugging me Esta undecision me molesta ...
The stadium has run on fire. I sweat and spit blood on the public anger and vomiting all my adrenaline. Under the stage pogano which is a beauty. I'm the king of rock'n roll I'm in charge here and I want to see you busting, beat the living daylights and fell to the ground bleeding, because that's how it's done.
... Me tienes que desir Should I cool it or should i blow? ...
The piece is finished. The ovation from the crowd splits the eardrums of most of our decibel marshall but while I enjoy the moment, the door of my room opens. The door is the huge figure of my father in his underwear and tank top, her mouth is smeared with sauce and the look of one who hath been poisoned angry and left the table while he was eating. I remain petrified with fear. Approaching at a slow pace and with a face that does not bode well. Reach out exaggerated the size, I close my eyes instantly. I hear the stereo volume drop and when I open my eyes I find him to ten inches from me. Pants from his nose like a bull at the bullfight.
He goes slamming the door. The room shakes under a fifth of the earthquake on the Richter scale and the shelves fall knickknacks and furnishings. Immediately turn off the stereo when he does that because it is better not upset. I take the disc from the dish with extreme care and put it in a cardboard case, this bootleg of the concert of The Clash at Shea Stadium has cost me a fortune but it was worth it. But tomorrow, I put on The Song Remain The Same, the live Led Zeppelin, then braced my legendary Gibson Les Paul, and so let's see who the fag that hangs on me and Jimmy Page.
Yes, I just want to see.
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