Love song
Ground control to Major Tom. Ground control to Major Tom:
Take your protein pills and put your helmet on
Ground control to Major Tom: Commencing countdown engine's on
Check ig-nition and may God's love be with you
This is ground control to Major Tom, you've really made the grade!
And the papers want to know whose shirts you wear,
Now it's time to leave the capsule if you dare
This is Major Tom to ground con-trol, I'm stepping through the door
And I'm floating in the most peculiar way
And the stars look very different today
For here am I sitting in a tin can, far above the world
Planet Earth is blue and there's nothing I can do
Though I'm passed one hundred thousand miles, I'm feeling very still
And I think my spaceship knows which way to go,
tell my wife I love her very much she knows
Ground control to Major Tom:
Your circuit's dead, there's something wong.
Can you hear me Major Tom?
Can you hear me Major Tom?
Can you hear me Major Tom? Can you ...
Here am I floating round my tin can, far above the moon
Planet Earth is blue and there's nothing I can do
I don't know why, but this song has always been one of my favorite love-tunes of all times. My first husband used to play it and sing it remarkably well and I still remember a night, in Atlanta, when we hummed it together sitting in my living room's floor. Major Tom keeps making me cry while I smile. It takes a great artist to achieve that. :-)
Take your protein pills and put your helmet on
Ground control to Major Tom: Commencing countdown engine's on
Check ig-nition and may God's love be with you
This is ground control to Major Tom, you've really made the grade!
And the papers want to know whose shirts you wear,
Now it's time to leave the capsule if you dare
This is Major Tom to ground con-trol, I'm stepping through the door
And I'm floating in the most peculiar way
And the stars look very different today
For here am I sitting in a tin can, far above the world
Planet Earth is blue and there's nothing I can do
Though I'm passed one hundred thousand miles, I'm feeling very still
And I think my spaceship knows which way to go,
tell my wife I love her very much she knows
Ground control to Major Tom:
Your circuit's dead, there's something wong.
Can you hear me Major Tom?
Can you hear me Major Tom?
Can you hear me Major Tom? Can you ...
Here am I floating round my tin can, far above the moon
Planet Earth is blue and there's nothing I can do
I don't know why, but this song has always been one of my favorite love-tunes of all times. My first husband used to play it and sing it remarkably well and I still remember a night, in Atlanta, when we hummed it together sitting in my living room's floor. Major Tom keeps making me cry while I smile. It takes a great artist to achieve that. :-)
Improvisado por M. Ã s 10:23 da tarde
4 Somethin' Else:
Indeed!
And a great soul to feel that way! ;-)
Err... espero não estragar, mas isto é uma tripe que corre mal, digo eu. Nunca a vi como love song, nem me consigo destacar da imagem da overdose e marimbanço do Tom, mas... tu lá saberás.
(às vezes é o momento em que a ouvimos ou o que música evoca, e não tanto o que ela diz literalmente, digo eu, tentando adivinhar)
há muito tempo que não ouvia Bowie até ao dia em que descobri um album delicioso "The Life Aquatic Studio Sessions" de Seu Jorge. Vale bem a pena ouvir estas "versões", muito bom mesmo.
APC,
Hmm... :-S
Lisa,
LOL! Eu sei que é estranho, acredita que sei, mas é como se esta música, comigo, se esvaziasse dos significados que a letra e a imaginação delirante do Bowie lhe deram para assumir um papel completamente diferente. O som, o ritmo, a cadência, as oscilações da voz. Não sei. Talvez radique, como dizes, nos momentos que lhe deram origem, é possível, embora hoje não os veja com esses olhos. É estranho, eu sei. Sou esquisita, eheheheh...
Zito,
Bem-vindo e obrigada pela recomendação. Já foi pirateado e será ouvido em breve. A música de Bowie é algo a que regresso em ciclos. Talvez por ser algo profundamente geracional e enraizado na minha adolescência, nunca me afasto totalmente.
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