The Dishwasher's Dream :
Born with a face that life would erase
I chased the frustrated wind to New York
Fell in love with Monique to a Yanks winning streak
And we danced to the popping of corks
I found work in the weeds of the kitchen where the seeds
Of my dreams I did plant in the sink
Where the tower of plates threw shadows on our fates
And I had too much time for to think
Fourteen hours a day left me little time to play
With my lover who slept through her blues
As the sizzle of filets was the soundtrack that played
While I struggled through my headaches and flus
And my vision of a day when we could get away
Seemed t sink into the suds of the soap
That I used to make money that I spent on my honey
For to keep her in Cheetos and dope
One day alone with my thoughts and the pans and the pots
I was beginning to fear for our life
While the burners threw heat from out under the meat
I lunged with the edge of a knife
And as my blood formed a rose with the sweat from my nose
On the face of a China white plate
I returned to a time when hope was our friend
Instead of this bitch that we hate
I fell to the tiles my face was all smiles
The sink overflowing a flood as sous chefs and waiters
And vegetable traders all stood in the path of my blood
I began to relax and slowly unwind and drift off as the maitre’d cried
“Well this is what happens when love starts to rot and poisons the dishwasher’s mind”
I awoke to the sound of Monique calling out from her nightmarish side of our bed
My wrists were all flesh there were no signs of cuts
As I reached out to touch her sweet head
And as the sweat on her face found a new resting place
On the tip of my fingers I leaned
Into her ear and told her no fear
We’re just having the same awful dream
I chased the frustrated wind to New York
Fell in love with Monique to a Yanks winning streak
And we danced to the popping of corks
I found work in the weeds of the kitchen where the seeds
Of my dreams I did plant in the sink
Where the tower of plates threw shadows on our fates
And I had too much time for to think
Fourteen hours a day left me little time to play
With my lover who slept through her blues
As the sizzle of filets was the soundtrack that played
While I struggled through my headaches and flus
And my vision of a day when we could get away
Seemed t sink into the suds of the soap
That I used to make money that I spent on my honey
For to keep her in Cheetos and dope
One day alone with my thoughts and the pans and the pots
I was beginning to fear for our life
While the burners threw heat from out under the meat
I lunged with the edge of a knife
And as my blood formed a rose with the sweat from my nose
On the face of a China white plate
I returned to a time when hope was our friend
Instead of this bitch that we hate
I fell to the tiles my face was all smiles
The sink overflowing a flood as sous chefs and waiters
And vegetable traders all stood in the path of my blood
I began to relax and slowly unwind and drift off as the maitre’d cried
“Well this is what happens when love starts to rot and poisons the dishwasher’s mind”
I awoke to the sound of Monique calling out from her nightmarish side of our bed
My wrists were all flesh there were no signs of cuts
As I reached out to touch her sweet head
And as the sweat on her face found a new resting place
On the tip of my fingers I leaned
Into her ear and told her no fear
We’re just having the same awful dream
Born with a face that life would erase
I chased the frustrated wind to New York
Fell in love with Monique to a Yanks winning streak
And we danced to the popping of corks
I found work in the weeds of the kitchen where the seeds
Of my dreams I did plant in the sink
Where the tower of plates threw shadows on our fates
And I had too much time for to think
Fourteen hours a day left me little time to play
With my lover who slept through her blues
As the sizzle of filets was the soundtrack that played
While I struggled through my headaches and flus
And my vision of a day when we could get away
Seemed t sink into the suds of the soap
That I used to make money that I spent on my honey
For to keep her in Cheetos and dope
One day alone with my thoughts and the pans and the pots
I was beginning to fear for our life
While the burners threw heat from out under the meat
I lunged with the edge of a knife
And as my blood formed a rose with the sweat from my nose
On the face of a China white plate
I returned to a time when hope was our friend
Instead of this bitch that we hate
I fell to the tiles my face was all smiles
The sink overflowing a flood as sous chefs and waiters
And vegetable traders all stood in the path of my blood
I began to relax and slowly unwind and drift off as the maitre’d cried
“Well this is what happens when love starts to rot and poisons the dishwasher’s mind”
I awoke to the sound of Monique calling out from her nightmarish side of our bed
My wrists were all flesh there were no signs of cuts
As I reached out to touch her sweet head
And as the sweat on her face found a new resting place
On the tip of my fingers I leaned
Into her ear and told her no fear
We’re just having the same awful dream
I chased the frustrated wind to New York
Fell in love with Monique to a Yanks winning streak
And we danced to the popping of corks
I found work in the weeds of the kitchen where the seeds
Of my dreams I did plant in the sink
Where the tower of plates threw shadows on our fates
And I had too much time for to think
Fourteen hours a day left me little time to play
With my lover who slept through her blues
As the sizzle of filets was the soundtrack that played
While I struggled through my headaches and flus
And my vision of a day when we could get away
Seemed t sink into the suds of the soap
That I used to make money that I spent on my honey
For to keep her in Cheetos and dope
One day alone with my thoughts and the pans and the pots
I was beginning to fear for our life
While the burners threw heat from out under the meat
I lunged with the edge of a knife
And as my blood formed a rose with the sweat from my nose
On the face of a China white plate
I returned to a time when hope was our friend
Instead of this bitch that we hate
I fell to the tiles my face was all smiles
The sink overflowing a flood as sous chefs and waiters
And vegetable traders all stood in the path of my blood
I began to relax and slowly unwind and drift off as the maitre’d cried
“Well this is what happens when love starts to rot and poisons the dishwasher’s mind”
I awoke to the sound of Monique calling out from her nightmarish side of our bed
My wrists were all flesh there were no signs of cuts
As I reached out to touch her sweet head
And as the sweat on her face found a new resting place
On the tip of my fingers I leaned
Into her ear and told her no fear
We’re just having the same awful dream
El sueño del lavaplatos
Nací con una cara que la vida acabaría borrando
Perseguí el viento de los frustrados hasta Nueva York
Me enamoré de Monique cuando los Yankees tenían una racha de victorias
Bailamos con los estallidos de las palomitas
Encontré trabajo entre las malas hierbas de una cocina en donde planté las semillas
de mis sueños en su fregadero
Donde las torres de platos lanzaban su sombra sobre nuestras realidades
y tenía mucho tiempo para pensar
Catorce horas al día me dejaban poco tiempo para jugar
con mi amante que se dormía abrazada a su melancolía
El sonido de la carne cocinandose era nuestra banda sonora
Yo luchaba con mis resfriados y mareos
mientras la idea de podernos escapar de allí
se hundia en el sumidero entre el jabón
El dinero que ganaba lo solía gastar en mi novia
comprandola Cheetos y maría
Un día estando solo con mis pensamientos, las cacerolas y sartenes
empecé a temer por nosotros
Mientras los quemadores lanzaban su fuego a la carne
empecé a jugar con el filo de un cuchillo
mi sangre empezo a formar una flor
en el blanco de un plato chino
Volví al tiempo en que la esperanza era nuestra amiga
y no la puta que ahora odiamos
Sentí que mi cara estaba cubierta por sonrisas
el fregadero rebosaba mientras los camareros, cocineros
y proveedores estaban sobre el camino que había formado mi sangre
Me empezé a relajar y desmayar mientras el maitre lloraba
"Esto es lo que pasa cuando el amor pudre y envenena
el cerebro del lavaplatos"
Me desperté cuando Monique me llamaba desde su lado de la cama
mis muñecas estaban perfectas no había signos de cortes
Me incorporé para tocar su dulce cara
y en la dulzura de su cara encontré un lugar donde descansar
Me apoye en la punta de mis dedos
y le dije a su oreja no tengas miedo
es la misma pesadilla horrible de siempre
4 comentarios:
Que increible cancion! Gracias.
VIVA MARAH!
Buen trabajo! Suena muy bien la letra así. Con tu permiso la utilizo para colgarla en el puto Facebook.
Te atreves con Round eye blues?
GRACIAS!
Hola Recopetin
¿Qué quieres la letra en ingles, traducción y video como en esta entrada?
Hombre! a mi no me des la oportunidad de pedir que te hundo el chiringuito.. ,)
Tal y como lo haces está cojonudo, así que a tu bola!
Muy guapo, le envié tu traducción a Serge Bielanko, se que le molará.
GRACIAS!
Publicar un comentario