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							Bob DylanNon poteva mancare un 3D dedicato. Poeta del ventesimo secolo. Si parte con ***She belongs to me *** "She's got everything she needs, 
 She's an artist, she don't look back.
 She's got everything she needs,
 She's an artist, she don't look back.
 She can take the dark out of the nighttime
 And paint the daytime black.You will start out standing 
 Proud to steal her anything she sees.
 You will start out standing
 Proud to steal her anything she sees.
 But you will wind up peeking through her keyhole
 Down upon your knees.She never stumbles, 
 She's got no place to fall.
 She never stumbles,
 She's got no place to fall.
 She's nobody's child,
 The Law can't touch her at all.She wears an Egyptian ring 
 That sparkles before she speaks.
 She wears an Egyptian ring
 That sparkles before she speaks.
 She's a hypnotist collector,
 You are a walking antique.Bow down to her on Sunday, 
 Salute her when her birthday comes.
 Bow down to her on Sunday,
 Salute her when her birthday comes.
 For Halloween give her a trumpet
 And for Christmas, buy her a drum. "
 
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							In una discussione che non poteva mancare, una canzone che non poteva mancare. Bob Dylan - Knockin' on Heaven's Door Mama take this badge from me 
 I can't use it anymore
 It's getting dark too dark to see
 Feels like I'm knockin' on heaven's doorKnock-knock-knockin' on heaven's door 
 Knock-knock-knockin' on heaven's door
 Knock-knock-knockin' on heaven's door
 Knock-knock-knockin' on heaven's doorMama put my guns in the ground 
 I can't shoot them anymore
 That cold black cloud is comin' down
 Feels like I'm knockin' on heaven's doorKnock-knock-knockin' on heaven's door 
 Knock-knock-knockin' on heaven's door
 Knock-knock-knockin' on heaven's door
 Knock-knock-knockin' on heaven's door
 
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							Non è niente mamma, sanguino soltanto. It's Alright Ma (I'm Only Bleeding) è presente nel film Easy Rider nella versione di Roger Mc Guinn Darkness at the break of noon 
 Shadows even the silver spoon
 The handmade blade, the child's balloon
 Eclipses both the sun and moon
 To understand you know too soon
 There is no sense in trying.
 Pointed threats, they bluff with scorn
 Suicide remarks are torn
 From the fool's gold mouthpiece
 The hollow horn plays wasted words
 Proves to warn
 That he not busy being born
 Is busy dying.
 Temptation's page flies out the door
 You follow, find yourself at war
 Watch waterfalls of pity roar
 You feel to moan but unlike before
 You discover
 That you'd just be
 One more person crying.
 So don't fear if you hear
 A foreign sound to your ear
 It's alright, Ma, I'm only sighing.
 As some warn victory, some downfall
 Private reasons great or small
 Can be seen in the eyes of those that call
 To make all that should be killed to crawl
 While others say don't hate nothing at all
 Except hatred.
 Disillusioned words like bullets bark
 As human gods aim for their mark
 Made everything from toy guns that spark
 To flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark
 It's easy to see without looking too far
 That not much
 Is really sacred.
 While preachers preach of evil fates
 Teachers teach that knowledge waits
 Can lead to hundred-dollar plates
 Goodness hides behind its gates
 But even the president of the United States
 Sometimes must have
 To stand naked.
 An' though the rules of the road have been lodged
 It's only people's games that you got to dodge
 And it's alright, Ma, I can make it.
 Advertising signs that con you
 Into thinking you're the one
 That can do what's never been done
 That can win what's never been won
 Meantime life outside goes on
 All around you.
 You lose yourself, you reappear
 You suddenly find you got nothing to fear
 Alone you stand with nobody near
 When a trembling distant voice, unclear
 Startles your sleeping ears to hear
 That somebody thinks
 They really found you.
 A question in your nerves is lit
 Yet you know there is no answer fit to satisfy
 Insure you not to quit
 To keep it in your mind and not fergit
 That it is not he or she or them or it
 That you belong to.
 Although the masters make the rules
 For the wise men and the fools
 I got nothing, Ma, to live up to.
 For them that must obey authority
 That they do not respect in any degree
 Who despise their jobs, their destinies
 Speak jealously of them that are free
 Cultivate their flowers to be
 Nothing more than something
 They invest in.
 While some on principles baptized
 To strict party platform ties
 Social clubs in drag disguise
 Outsiders they can freely criticize
 Tell nothing except who to idolize
 And then say God bless him.
 While one who sings with his tongue on fire
 Gargles in the rat race choir
 Bent out of shape from society's pliers
 Cares not to come up any higher
 But rather get you down in the hole
 That he's in.
 But I mean no harm nor put fault
 On anyone that lives in a vault
 But it's alright, Ma, if I can't please him.
 Old lady judges watch people in pairs
 Limited in sex, they dare
 To push fake morals, insult and stare
 While money doesn't talk, it swears
 Obscenity, who really cares
 Propaganda, all is phony.
 While them that defend what they cannot see
 With a killer's pride, security
 It blows the minds most bitterly
 For them that think death's honesty
 Won't fall upon them naturally
 Life sometimes
 Must get lonely.
 My eyes collide head-on with stuffed graveyards
 False gods, I scuff
 At pettiness which plays so rough
 Walk upside-down inside handcuffs
 Kick my legs to crash it off
 Say okay, I have had enough
 What else can you show me?
 And if my thought-dreams could be seen
 They'd probably put my head in a guillotine
 But it's alright, Ma, it's life, and life only.
 Buio allo scoccare di mezzogiorno 
 adombra persino il cucchiaio d'argento
 la lama fatta a mano
 il pallone del bambino
 eclissa sia il sole che la luna
 per capire che sai troppo presto
 che non serve a niente provareMinacce acuminate ingannano con disdegno 
 commenti suicidi sono strappati
 dal microfono d'oro dello stolto
 il vuoto corno suona parole sprecate
 che avvertono
 che non è impegnato a nascere
 E' impegnato a morirePagina di tentazioni vola via al di fuori della porta 
 la segui e ti trovi in guerra
 vedi ruggire cascate di pietà
 ti viene da lamentarti ma a differenza di prima
 scopri che saresti solo
 un'altra persona che piangePerciò non aver paura se senti 
 Un suono estraneo alle tue orecchie
 E' tutto a posto mamma, sto solo sospirandoMentre alcuni preannunciano vittoria altri dicono sconfitta 
 ragioni private grandi e piccole
 possono essere viste negli occhi di quelli che chiamano
 per far strisciare tutto quello che potrebbe essere ucciso
 mentre altri dicono di non odiare un bel nulla
 eccetto l'odioParole di disillusione scoppiano come proiettili 
 mentre divinità umane prendono la mira per i loro obiettivi
 costruiscono di tutto, da armi giocattolo che scintillano
 a Cristi color carne che splendono al buio
 è facile da capire senza dover guardare molto lontano
 che non c'è molto di veramente sacroMentre predicatori predicano di malvagi destini 
 insegnanti insegnano che il sapere aspetta
 può condurre a piatti di cento dollari
 le divinità si nascondono dietro i loro cancelli
 ma persino il presidente degli Stati Uniti
 a volte deve presentarsi nudoE sebbene le leggi della strada siano state dettate 
 è solo un gioco di persone che devi evitare
 ed è tutto a posto mamma, ce la posso fareCartelloni pubblicitari ti inducono 
 a pensare che tu sei quello
 che può fare ciò che non è mai stato fatto
 che può vincere ciò che non è mai stato vinto
 e intanto la vita fuori va avanti senza di teTi perdi e poi riappari 
 improvvisamente scopri che non hai nulla da temere
 sei da solo senza nessuno vicino
 quando una voce lontana poco chiara e tremante
 fa trasalire le tue orecchie addormentate per sentire
 che qualcuno pensa
 di averti trovato davveroUna domanda si illumina nei tuoi nervi 
 anche se sai che non c'è alcuna risposta appropriata
 per soddisfarti, assicurarti e non abbandonarti
 per trattenere nella tua mente e non dimenticare
 che non è a lui o a lei o a loro o ad esso
 che tu appartieniE benché i padroni facciano le regole 
 Per i saggi e per gli stolti
 Io non ho niente, mamma, per cui viverePer coloro i quali devono obbedire alle autorità 
 che non rispettano in nessun modo
 che disprezzano il loro lavoro, i loro destini
 parlano gelosamente di quello per cui sono liberi
 che fanno quello che fanno solo per essere
 niente di più di qualcosa nella quale investonoMentre alcuni battezzati senza principi morali 
 strettamente legati a certe linee di partito
 società mondane camuffate
 possono liberamente criticare gli estranei
 senza dire niente eccetto chi idolatrare
 e poi dicono "Dio lo benedica"Mentre colui che canta con la lingua in fiamme 
 fa gargarismi nel coro della corsa al successo
 piegato dalle pinze della società
 senza preoccuparsi di arrivare troppo in alto
 ma più volentieri ti butta giù nella buca in cui si trovaMa non ho intenzione di far male 
 nè di fare sbagli
 nei confronti di chiunque viva nella sua cripta
 ma è tutto a posto, mamma, se posso fargli piacereVecchie donne giudicano le coppie 
 limitate nel sesso, osano
 sostenere vuote morali, insultare e fissare
 mentre il denaro non parla, impreca
 della oscenità chi davvero se ne interessa
 la propaganda è del tutto fasullaMentre loro difendono ciò che non possono vedere 
 con una sicurezza ed un orgoglio da assassini
 che soffia nelle loro menti più amaramente
 per loro che pensano che l'onestà della morte
 non ricadrà su di loro naturalmente
 la vita a volte può essere malinconicaI miei occhi si scontrano faccia a faccia con cimiteri ripieni 
 inseguo falsi scopi
 verso la meschinità che gioca così duramente
 cammina a rovescio all'interno di manette
 calcia le mie gambe fino a spezzarle
 dico OK ne ho avuto abbastanza
 che altro avete da mostrarmi?E se i miei sogni pensanti potessero essere visti 
 probabilmente metterebbero la mia testa in una ghigliottina
 ma non è niente mamma, è la vita e la vita soltanto
 
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							"Pistol shots ring out in the barroom night 
 Enter Patty Valentine from the upper hall.
 She sees the bartender in a pool of blood,
 Cries out, "My God, they killed them all!"
 Here comes the story of the Hurricane,
 The man the authorities came to blame
 For somethin' that he never done.
 Put in a prison cell, but one time he could-a been
 The champion of the world.Three bodies lyin' there does Patty see And another man named Bello, movin' around mysteriously. "I didn't do it," he says, and he throws up his hands "I was only robbin' the register, I hope you understand. I saw them leavin'," he says, and he stops "One of us had better call up the cops." And so Patty calls the cops And they arrive on the scene with their red lights flashin' In the hot New Jersey night. Meanwhile, far away in another part of town Rubin Carter and a couple of friends are drivin' around. Number one contender for the middleweight crown Had no idea what kinda shit was about to go down When a cop pulled him over to the side of the road Just like the time before and the time before that. In Paterson that's just the way things go. If you're black you might as well not show up on the street 'Less you wanna draw the heat. Alfred Bello had a partner and he had a rap for the cops. Him and Arthur Dexter Bradley were just out prowlin' around He said, "I saw two men runnin' out, they looked like middleweights They jumped into a white car with out-of-state plates." And Miss Patty Valentine just nodded her head. Cop said, "Wait a minute, boys, this one's not dead" So they took him to the infirmary And though this man could hardly see They told him that he could identify the guilty men. Four in the mornin' and they haul Rubin in, Take him to the hospital and they bring him upstairs. The wounded man looks up through his one dyin' eye Says, "Wha'd you bring him in here for? He ain't the guy!" Yes, here's the story of the Hurricane, The man the authorities came to blame For somethin' that he never done. Put in a prison cell, but one time he could-a been The champion of the world. Four months later, the ghettos are in flame, Rubin's in South America, fightin' for his name While Arthur Dexter Bradley's still in the robbery game And the cops are puttin' the screws to him, lookin' for somebody to blame. "Remember that murder that happened in a bar?" "Remember you said you saw the getaway car?" "You think you'd like to play ball with the law?" "Think it might-a been that fighter that you saw runnin' that night?" "Don't forget that you are white." Arthur Dexter Bradley said, "I'm really not sure." Cops said, "A poor boy like you could use a break We got you for the motel job and we're talkin' to your friend Bello Now you don't wanta have to go back to jail, be a nice fellow. You'll be doin' society a favor. That sonofabitch is brave and gettin' braver. We want to put his ass in stir We want to pin this triple murder on him He ain't no Gentleman Jim." Rubin could take a man out with just one punch But he never did like to talk about it all that much. It's my work, he'd say, and I do it for pay And when it's over I'd just as soon go on my way Up to some paradise Where the trout streams flow and the air is nice And ride a horse along a trail. But then they took him to the jailhouse Where they try to turn a man into a mouse. All of Rubin's cards were marked in advance The trial was a pig-circus, he never had a chance. The judge made Rubin's witnesses drunkards from the slums To the white folks who watched he was a revolutionary bum And to the black folks he was just a crazy nigger. No one doubted that he pulled the trigger. And though they could not produce the gun, The D.A. said he was the one who did the deed And the all-white jury agreed. Rubin Carter was falsely tried. The crime was murder "one," guess who testified? Bello and Bradley and they both baldly lied And the newspapers, they all went along for the ride. How can the life of such a man Be in the palm of some fool's hand? To see him obviously framed Couldn't help but make me feel ashamed to live in a land Where justice is a game. Now all the criminals in their coats and their ties Are free to drink martinis and watch the sun rise While Rubin sits like Buddha in a ten-foot cell An innocent man in a living hell. That's the story of the Hurricane, But it won't be over till they clear his name And give him back the time he's done. Put in a prison cell, but one time he could-a been The champion of the world."
 
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È veramente il mastergenio della musica!!!!!