Às moscas

I Contain Multitudes Bob Dylan Today and tomorrow and yesterday, too, The flowers are dying like all things do. Follow me close. I'm going to Balian Bali I'll lose my mind if you don't come with me I fuss with my hair and I fight blood feuds. I contain multitudes. Got a tell-tale heart, like Mr. Poe. Got skeletons in the walls of people you know. I'll drink to the truth and the things we said. I'll drink to the man that shares your bed. I'll paint landscapes and I'll paint nudes. I contain multitudes. Red Cadillac and a Black Mustache, Rings on my fingers that sparkle and flash. Tell me what's next, what shall we do? Half my soul, baby, belongs to you. I rollick and I frolic with all the young dudes. I contain multitudes. I'm just like Anne Frank, like Indiana Jones, And them British bad boys, the Rolling Stones. I go right to the edge, I go right to the end, I go right where all things lost are made good again...

Muitas canções de Bob Dylan, como muitas de Chico Buarque, usam com destreza e fidelidade uma forma de canção popular bem fixada e tradicional [neste caso, o blues] e integra nessa canção uma letra circular, que roda e roda batendo basicamente na mesma tecla, mas cada vez de um jeito diferente. Acho que é por isso que, para quem não entende ou não presta atenção à letra, os dois parecem meio anacrônicos. Everything Is Broken Bob Dylan Broken lines, broken strings Broken threads, broken springs Broken idols, broken heads People sleeping in broken beds Ain’t no use jiving Ain’t no use joking Everything is broken Broken bottles, broken plates Broken switches, broken gates Broken dishes, broken parts Streets are filled with broken hearts Broken words never meant to be spoken Everything is broken Seem like every time you stop and turn around Something else just hit the ground Broken cutters, broken saws Broken buckles, broken laws Broken ...