Mi unicornio azul, por fin te encontré. ¿Por dónde andabas? ¿Con quien estabas? ¿Y qué hacías allí? Mi unicornio azul, por fin te encontré. Tuve que pagar mucho dinero para averiguar tu paradero, mi unicornio azul, por fin te encontré. Las flores que dejaste no me decían por donde te rajaste y si algún día por ellas volverías a mi casa, desagradecido! Te fuiste sin decir si vendrías a cenar. Mi unicornio azul, por fin te encontré ¿Qué te hago de comer? ¿Querés café? Contame cómo te fue. ¿Por dónde andabas? ¿Con quien estabas? ¿Y qué hacías con él? ¿Por qué no estabas aquí? ¿Con quien andabas allí? Yo te esperaba aquí, pedazo de hipopótamo pintado con un cuerno regalado que de lejos se te ve, y por eso al fin te encontré en mi catalejo: te vio de lejos, y yo perplejo te veía el entrecejo oscurecido por la sombra de tu cuerno desparejo. Mi unicornio azul, por fin te encontré. Algunos se preguntan por qué sos azul, y otros se preguntan por qué, siendo azul, sos un unicornio, mi unicornio azul. No se que hacer contigo, mi unicornio azul, no se que hacer contigo: si ponerte en penitencia o de pronto marcarte en el carnet una inasistencia. Mi unicornio azul, por fin te encontré. Solo que aún no comprendo por qué estas verde. Mi unicornio azul, por fin te encontré. No me dijiste a donde fuiste. Podría torturarte para obligarte a confesarte pero no, porque yo no estoy de acuerdo con la tortura. Mi unicornio azul, por fin te encontré. Ahora tengo algo para mostrarles a mis amigas: mi unicornio azul; ahora mis amigos ya no pueden decir que soy un mentiroso. Los voy a llamar y les voy a decir que vengan a mirar cómo era cierto que en el fondo de mi casa hay un unicornio azul. Mi unicornio marrón, mi unicornio gris, amarillo, rojo, turquesa, lila, verde luz.

Leo Masliah, La recuperación del unicornio, Zanguango, 1996. Aunque me parece que originalmente estaba en un disco anterior.

My friends are so depressed
I feel the question of your loneliness
Confide `cause I`ll be on your side
You know I will, you know I will.

X girlfriend called me up
Alone and desperate on the prison phone
They want to give her 7 years for being sad.

I love all of you, hurt by the cold
So hard and lonely too, when you don`t know yourself.

My friends are so distressed
And standing on the brink of emptiness
No words I know of to express this emptiness.

Imagine me taught by tragedy
Release is peace.

I heard a little girl, and what she said was something beautiful
To give your love, no matter what. That`s what she said.

Red Hot Chili Peppers, My Friends, One Hot Minute, 1995.

Que bela sopa, de osso ou aveia, a ferver na panela cheia! Quem não diz: - Ave! Quem não diz: - Eia! Quem não diz: - Opa! Que bela Sopa! Sopa das sopas, que bela Sopa! Que be-la So-opa! So-pa, só-ó So-pa Que bela Sopa!

Que bela Sopa! Quem não se baba, quem não a papa! quem não a gaba! Quem não daria tudo só para beliscar essa bela Sopa? Beliscar essa bela sopa? Que be-la So-opa! Que be-la So-opa! So-pa, só-ó So-opa! Que bela So-sopa!


Adriana Calcanhotto, Canção da falsa tartaruga, Adriana Partimpim, 2004.
Lewis Carroll, The Mock Turtle’s Story, Alice in Wonderland, ch. IX; illustration by Sir John Tenniel.

I still don't know what I was waiting for, and my time was running wild
a million dead-end streets.
Every time I thought I'd got it made it seemed the taste was not so sweet.
So I turned myself to face me but I've never caught a glimpse
of how the others must see the faker,
I'm much too fast to take that test.

Turn and face the strain. Changes.
Don't want to be a richer man, just gonna have to be a different man.
Time may change me but I can't trace time.

I watch the ripples change their size but never leave the stream
of warm impermanence,
and so the days float through my eyes but still the days seem the same.
And these children that you spit on as they try to change their worlds
are immune to your consultations,
they're quite aware of what they're going through.

Turn and face the strain. Changes.
Don't tell them to grow up and out of it.
Where's your shame, you've left us up to our necks in it.
Time may change me but you can't trace time.

Strange fascination, fascinating me. Changes are taking the pace I'm going through.

Turn and face the strain. Changes.
Oh, look out you rock 'n rollers, pretty soon you're gonna get a little older.
Time may change me but I can't trace time. I said that time may change me but I can't trace time.

David Bowie, Changes, Hunky Dory, 1971.

And in the land where I grew up, into the bosom of technology, I kept my feelings to myself until the perfect moment comes.

Then into your bloodstream I will go until I turn into a part of you flooding the garden of delights. That was a long long time ago, that was a long long time ago.

It's not the ending of the world, it's only the closing of a discotheque I used to go three times a week, but that was a long long time ago. Yeah, that was a long long time ago.

And that roaring that you hear is only the blood that circles constantly. No, it is not applause my dear, that was a long long time ago. That was a long long time ago.

In between stations I can hear a million possibilities, it's only the singing of the stars that burned out a long long time ago, they burned out a long long time ago.

David Byrne, A long time ago, davidbyrne, 1994.

When there's a bluebird singing by your windowpane
and the sun shines bright all day through,
don't forget boy! look over your shoulder,
'cos there's always someone coming after you.

When everything in life seems just as it should be
at last success seems just around the door,
don't forget boy! look over your shoulder,
'cos things don't stay the same for evermore.

Hope springs eternal in a young man's breast
as he dreams of a better life ahead,
without that dream you are nothing, nothing, nothing...
you have to find out for yourself your dream is dead.


Alan Price, Look over your shoulder, O' Lucky Man Soundtrack, 1973.

If I were a weapon you said I'd be a gun: lethal at close range, I guess, with silencer and stun. But I feel more like a needle, always pulling on the thread, always making the same point again and wondering if you heard what I just said.

If you were a weapon a hammer's what you'd be: blunt and heavy at the end and coming down on me. But I've concealed a weapon in a pocket knife attack, all folded up inside until you see the shine and then you'll want it back.

If I were a weapon you said I'd be a gun: lethal at close range, I guess, with silencer and stun. Well, if I am that weapon I am pointing now at you, so just put down the hostage and we'll talk it down until we see this through.


Suzanne Vega, If I were a weapon, Songs in Red & Gray, 2001.