Self-Pity
D. H. Lawrence

I never saw a wild thing
sorry for itself.
A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough
without ever having felt sorry for itself.

Robocop
Marcelo Nova

Eu já nem sei se me lembro quando foi que começou
Estrela no peito xerife, bandido não perdoou
Eu fugia da escola pra poder ir pro cinema
Eu encarnava o mocinho, me fascinava o emblema
Hoje começo bem cedo, levanto pronto pra ação
Polícia dorme atento de quepe e cinturão
Então me sento na mesa, café com pão e biscoito
Mas não são feitas de açúcar as balas do meu trinta e oito

Meu carro parece um tanque, meu macacão camuflado
Mas eu só prendo mendigo, então pivete ou viado
Meu peito é feito de aço o meu plantão é noturno
Guardo uma grana arrochada na sola do meu coturno
Essa cidade tem câncer e este câncer é crime
Tumor que cresce e corrompe senhora nem se aproxime
As vezes sinto vergonha da minha corporação
Dos olhos que me fuzilam no meio da multidão

Eu amedronto as pessoas a quem devo proteger
Pensam que sou inimigo procuram se esconder
O meu andar assusta, o meu olhar intimida
Preço que todos pagamos por uma bala perdida
Recebo ordens de doido, doidos por ordens da lei
Mas mesmo fora de ordem, ordens são ordens eu sei
Na esquina da Ipiranga onde cruza a São João
Tudo se move e acontece menos no meu coração
Meu pai não estava careta quando sangrou minha irmã
Depois me beijou na testa, me disse até amanhã
Então sumiu do planeta nas asas de um caminhão
Mas ainda vou encontra-lo, vou lhe dar voz de prisão
Eu chorava no quarto quando chegou a TV
Mas não disseram a verdade e nem mostraram porque
Minhas mãos banhadas de sangue, minhas mãos lavadas no horror
Pensaram que era outro filme, chamaram o patrocinador
Por isso eu sempre atiro, que é pra depois perguntar
Embora, as vezes eu me esqueça do que eu ia falar
Que bom que eu cheguei em casa pra beijar minha mulher
Ela me diz que é fiel pro que der e vier
Pro que der e vier

RETIRANTES
Dorival Caymmi

Vida de negro é difícil
É difícil como o quê
Vida de negro é difícil
É difícil como o quê
Eu quero morrer de noite
Na tocaia a me matar
Eu quero morrer de açoite
Se tu negra me deixar
Vida de negro é difícil
É difícil como o quê
Meu amor eu vou me embora
Nessa terra vou morrer
Um dia não vou mais ver
Nunca mais eu vou viver
Vida de negro é difícil
É difícil como o quê

Mother
Pink Floyd

Mother do you think they'll drop the bomb?
Mother do you think they'll like this song?
Mother do you think they'll try to break my balls?
Mother should I build the wall?
Mother should I run for president?
Mother should I trust the government?
Mother will they put me in the firing line?
Mother am I really dying?

Hush now baby, baby, dont you cry.
Mother's gonna make all your nightmares come true.
Mother's gonna put all her fears into you.
Mother's gonna keep you right here under her wing.
She wont let you fly, but she might let you sing.
Mama will keep baby cozy and warm.
Ooooh baby ooooh baby oooooh baby,
Of course mama'll help to build the wall.

Mother do you think she's good enough -- to me?
Mother do you think she's dangerous -- to me?
Mother will she tear your little boy apart?
Mother will she break my heart?

Hush now baby, baby dont you cry.
Mama's gonna check out all your girlfriends for you.
Mama wont let anyone dirty get through.
Mama's gonna wait up until you get in.
Mama will always find out where you've been.
Mama's gonna keep baby healthy and clean.
Ooooh baby oooh baby oooh baby,
You'll always be baby to me.

Mother, did it need to be so high?

Desolation Row
Bob Dylan

They're selling postcards of the hanging
They're painting the passports brown
The beauty parlor is filled with sailors
The circus is in town
Here comes the blind commissioner
They've got him in a trance
One hand is tied to the tight-rope walker
The other is in his pants
And the riot squad they're restless
They need somewhere to go
As Lady and I look out tonight
From Desolation Row

Cinderella, she seems so easy
"It takes one to know one," she smiles
And puts her hands in her back pockets
Bette Davis style
And in comes Romeo, he's moaning
"You Belong to Me I Believe"
And someone says," You're in the wrong place, my friend
You better leave"
And the only sound that's left
After the ambulances go
Is Cinderella sweeping up
On Desolation Row

Now the moon is almost hidden
The stars are beginning to hide
The fortunetelling lady
Has even taken all her things inside
All except for Cain and Abel
And the hunchback of Notre Dame
Everybody is making love
Or else expecting rain
And the Good Samaritan, he's dressing
He's getting ready for the show
He's going to the carnival tonight
On Desolation Row

Now Ophelia, she's 'neath the window
For her I feel so afraid
On her twenty-second birthday
She already is an old maid

To her, death is quite romantic
She wears an iron vest
Her profession's her religion
Her sin is her lifelessness
And though her eyes are fixed upon
Noah's great rainbow
She spends her time peeking
Into Desolation Row

Einstein, disguised as Robin Hood
With his memories in a trunk
Passed this way an hour ago
With his friend, a jealous monk
He looked so immaculately frightful
As he bummed a cigarette
Then he went off sniffing drainpipes
And reciting the alphabet
Now you would not think to look at him
But he was famous long ago
For playing the electric violin
On Desolation Row

Dr. Filth, he keeps his world
Inside of a leather cup
But all his sexless patients
They're trying to blow it up
Now his nurse, some local loser
She's in charge of the cyanide hole
And she also keeps the cards that read
"Have Mercy on His Soul"
They all play on penny whistles
You can hear them blow
If you lean your head out far enough
From Desolation Row

Across the street they've nailed the curtains
They're getting ready for the feast
The Phantom of the Opera
A perfect image of a priest
They're spoonfeeding Casanova
To get him to feel more assured
Then they'll kill him with self-confidence
After poisoning him with words

And the Phantom's shouting to skinny girls
"Get Outa Here If You Don't Know
Casanova is just being punished for going
To Desolation Row"

Now at midnight all the agents
And the superhuman crew
Come out and round up everyone
That knows more than they do
Then they bring them to the factory
Where the heart-attack machine
Is strapped across their shoulders
And then the kerosene
Is brought down from the castles
By insurance men who go
Check to see that nobody is escaping
To Desolation Row

Praise be to Nero's Neptune
The Titanic sails at dawn
And everybody's shouting
"Which Side Are You On?"
And Ezra Pound and T. S. Eliot
Fighting in the captain's tower
While calypso singers laugh at them
And fishermen hold flowers
Between the windows of the sea
Where lovely mermaids flow
And nobody has to think too much
About Desolation Row

Yes, I received your letter yesterday
(About the time the door knob broke)
When you asked how I was doing
Was that some kind of joke?
All these people that you mention
Yes, I know them, they're quite lame
I had to rearrange their faces
And give them all another name
Right now I can't read too good
Don't send me no more letters no
Not unless you mail them
From Desolation Row