Money
Pink Floyd| La nuova versione di Roger Waters da The Dark Side Of The Moon... | |
| DINAI Dinai, baidindi! Cicadi unu traballu cument si spetat cun unu bellu stipendiu e ses a postu. Dinai, togu pagu! Piga su dinai a farrancadas e ponidu a tipu montixedu. Machina noba, botariga, sognus a ogus apetus a cincu stellas. Incapas mi compru una squadra de football! Dinai, torranci innoi! Andat totu beni, Cicitu, ma non tochist su dinai cosa mia. Dinai, est una droga! Non mi donist custas cagadas baratas. Seus tra is chi andant sempri in primu classi, e incapas tengiu abisongiu de unu aparechiu Lear. Dinai, est unu delinquenti. Donaidu a totus ma non tocheis sa parti cosa mia! Dinai, aici nant, ca est sa causa de d'ognia mabi imui. Ma chi pedis po unu aumentu non ti spantisti chi non ti donant nudda, Nudda, nudda, nudda, Nudda, nudda, nudda! | MONEY Money, get away You get a good job with more pay, and you're okay Money, it's a gas Grab that cash with both hands and make a stash New car, caviar, four-star daydream Think I'll buy me a football team Money, get back I'm alright, Jack, keep your hands off of my stack Money, it's a hit Ah, don't give me that do-goody-good bullshit I'm in the high-fidelity first class traveling set And I think I need a Lear jet Welcome to hell I’m sorry, I’ll read that again Welcome to rooftops I’m sorry, I’ll read that again Welcome to the starlight room I’m sorry, I’ll read that again Welcome to the underworld And now, for tonight’s main event The heavyweight Close swaddled in the cloying folds of fat For heavyweight Squats freak fearful on his stool And through toad lids he squints his vision of the world The gray parade of waiters and trade is retinue of course Seconds thirds and fourths Clean tick-like to his skin The bell sounds in the corner of the ring a fresh contender for his crown Puts out his pale hand to shake before the bout Champion blinks his sticky tongue swallowing greed With cuprous speed snakes out It’s lights out for the kid, his grace and wit In that split second plucked sucked dissolved reduced petty bulk digested shit The champ well satisfied adjusts his sumo backside on the stool Draws ‘round his clock breaks wind out loud The crowd howls it’s approval But in the shadow of the Ring with cloven hoof and a crooked grin The devil pats the briefcase that holds the Faustian Pact Enjoys his little joke Because he knows the Champion’s cloak is but a shroud in fact Money, it's a crime Share it fairly, but don't take a slice of my pie Money, so they say Is the root of all evil today But if you ask for a rise, it's no surprise That they're giving none away Away Giving none away How much you givin’ away? Uh None |
