Roxanne

Roxanne
You don't have to put on the red light
Those days are over
You don't have to sell your body to the night

Roxanne
You don't have to wear that dress tonight
Walk the streets for money
You don't care if it's wrong or if it's right

Roxanne
You don't have to put on the red light
Roxanne
You don't have to put on the red light

Roxanne (put on the red light)
Roxanne (put on the red light)
Roxanne (put on the red light)
Roxanne (put on the red light)
Roxanne (put on the red light)
Roxanne

I loved you since I knew you
I wouldn't talk down to you
I have to tell you just how I feel
I won't share you with another boy

I know my mind is made up
So put away your make-up
Told you once, I won't tell you again
It's a bad way

Roxanne
You don't have to put on the red light
Roxanne
You don't have to put on the red light

The Call To Dance

Ain't It Fun

I don't mind
Letting you down easy but just give it time
If it don't hurt now, but just wait, just wait a while
You're not the big fish in the pond no more
You are what they're feeding on

So what are you gonna do
When the world don't orbit around you
So what are you gonna do
When the world don't orbit around you

Ain't it fun
Living in the real world
Ain't it good
Being all alone

Where you're from
You might be the one who's running things
Well you can ring anybody's bell and get what you want
See it's easy to ignore trouble
When you're living in a bubble

So what are you gonna do
When the world don't orbit around you
So what are you gonna do
When nobody wants to fool with you

Ain't it fun
Living in the real world
Ain't it good
Being all alone
Ain't it good to be on your own
Ain't it fun, you can't count on no one
Ain't it good to be on your own
Ain't it fun you can't count on no one
Ain't it fun
Living in the real world

Don't go crying to your mama
'Cause you're on you're own, in the real world
Don't go crying to your mama
'Cause you're on you're own, in the real world

Don't go crying to your mama
'Cause you're on you're own, in the real world
Don't go crying to your mama
'Cause you're on you're own, in the real world

Ain't it fun, ain't it fun
Baby now you're one of us
Ain't it fun, ain't it fun, ain't it fun

Ain't it fun
Living in the real world
Ain't it good, ain't it good
Being all alone
Ain't it fun
Living in the real world
('Cause the world don't orbit around you)
Ain't it good, ain't it good
Being all alone

Don't go crying to your mama
'Cause you're on your own, in the real world
Don't go crying to your mama
'Cause you're on your own, in the real world
Don't go crying to your mama
'Cause you're on your own, this is the real world
Don't go crying to your mama
'Cause you're on your own,
In the real world (This is the real world, this is the real world)
Don't go crying to your mama
'Cause you're on your own, in the real world
Don't go crying to your mama
'Cause you're on your own, in the real world
Don't go crying to your mama
Don't go crying

Cambalache

Que el mundo fue y sera una porqueria,
ya lo sé…
En el quinientos seis
y en el dos mil también
Que siempre ha habido chorros,
maquiavelos y estafaos,
contentos y amargaos,
valores y dublés…
Pero que el siglo veinte
es un despliegue
de maldad insolente
ya no hay quien lo niegue.
Vivimos revolcaos en un merengue
y en un mismo lodo
todos manoseaos…

 

Hoy resulta que es lo mismo
ser derecho que traidor...
Ignorante, sabio, chorro,
generoso o estafador
Todo es igual. Nada es mejor
Lo mismo un burro
que un gran profesor
No hay aplazaos ni escalafón,
los inmorales nos han igualao.
Si uno vive en la impostura
y otro roba en su ambición,
da lo mismo que sea cura,
colchonero, rey de bastos,
caradura o polizón…

 

Qué falta de respeto,
que atropello a la razón
Cualquiera es un señor
Cualquiera es un ladrón
Mezclao con Stavisky va Don Bosco
y “La Mignon,”
Don Chicho y Napoleón,
Carnera y San Martin…
Igual que en la vidriera irrespetuosa
de los cambalaches
se ha mezclao la vida
y herida por un sable sin remache
ves llorar la Biblia
contra un bandoneón.

 

Siglo veinte, cambalache
problemático y febril
El que no llora, no mama,
y el que no roba es un gil.
Dale no más. Dale que va
Que allá en el horno
nos vamo a encontrar
No pienses más,
sentate a un lao.
Que a nadie importa
si naciste honrao.
Que es lo mismo el que trabaja
noche y día, como un buey
que el que vive de los otros,
que el que mata que el que cura
o esta fuera de la ley.

The Light of the Spirit