Sunteți pe pagina 1din 3

What was the songwriters?

We were so liberta rian almost revolutionary naive as brave, smiling beardless -The best from each houseblack sheep passing to follow the tradition counter bleating of the island to the mainland the new song. We were good people, rednecks and intelligent quirky bearded, workers, neighborhood kids, vanguard of the proletarian liberal university dreaming of a song and living the utopia convinced that one day came the Revolution Learning to share life in a smile, the sky in a caress, the kiss on a heater. Opening Day's Night Songs were planted and in this wasteland poetry flourished and fill the stadiums and many block parties rang our melody. Evenings and nights of glory that changed our history. And this country of Hicks, fascist chest hair, servile priests and nuns, gray and policemen, officials with a mustache and chusqueros with gallon the service of a breed controlling your pasta your mind and heart. Patriots Flag Spanish first, of the real Spain that so noble and fierce that another half killed arm up and face the sun Movement loyal to the height and talent the little dictator was Leader of Spain by the grace of God. Others fighting in sq uare Suddenly everything changed politicians at the head

of carnival and minstrel. Changed truths: "Both are worth selling." Then came the transition: democracy is the pear. Songwriter your trenches with laurel crowns and emblems of love but do not give more tin snatches your verse is not and your time is over. What happened to the songwriters? ask foreign air every four or five years clueless journalists we lost track and buried our voice. And so we go for thirty with the question of yore touching balls. I note Mr I repeat no more: some are directors, members, presidents, councilors, teachers, managers and producers or exercise advice the Society of Authors. Others are not singing, others sing and are not. There are those who withdrew, some who have died and other unborn Young people are now also university workers, neighborhood kids going through the city. A CD under his arm, the guitar strap, ten euros in the portfolio, singing from bar to bar. Or those rappers poets that is his pamphlets denouncing another social reality. What about women? not known. And especially if we talk of the first glorious that have had their ovaries and courage necessary getting into a scenario of that Spain scurfy. What happened to the songwriters? here I am Gentlemen and in my better days giving the song that is my thing. And while it's cold in winter I have the spring,

April 1 for the expected and grandola in the heart. What hap pened to the songwriters? here I am Gentlemen still alive and kicking these verses and singing Yesterday our truths that dot this and shit stinking that climbs our feet. What happened to the songwriters? Of the many we started, of the few who are left, of which were not sold, of non caved, of those who still resist: here we are. Everyone in the trenches making poetry our daily bread. The cat has nine lives although it catches mice. There songwriter for a while. Songwriter to your songs. Stick to your shoes. Luis Pastor Troubadour