Do Women Prefer Mens Privates Shaved?

In da club

It will be that the dear Mau, at the time, I homage card No. 1, but starting to feel like a Club on Thursday, with the dear old bunch of SuperGiovane and a good supply of bottles.

[Now I know it does not matter much, but "good supply", in my head ill, has come up with this dialogue (from Rambo - Ted Kotcheff, 1982):

- Sheriff Teasle "E would tell me that two hundred men against his Marines are not in a position to win? "
- Colonel Trautman: "If we send so many men do not forget one thing."
- Teasle Sheriff: "What?"
- Trautman: "A good supply of stretchers."]

Poi ad esempio, si potrebbe dire che in una situazione del genere , al club non ci sarebbe tutta 'sta calma intorno a Dylan, a meno che non siano le 5 del mattino con un goccio di Lucano da finire e l'ultima cazzata da modellare.

Però Pino, Peppe, Joe Santiago per il grande pubblico e Johnny Cash (anzi, levate pure il cognome) per i tesserati, con quella faccia fuori dal tempo, suona pure meglio di Dylan.
Ora gli (ci) mancano solo dei testi come questo. Che poi altro non è che il pezzo con cui mi sono svegliato e che no, proprio non se ne va:


LOVE MINUS ZERO/NO LIMIT
 
My love she speaks like silence,
Without ideals or violence,
She doesn't have to say she's faithful,
Yet she's true, like ice, like fire.
People carry roses,
Make promises by the hours,
My love she laughs like the flowers,
Valentines can't buy her.

In the dime stores and bus stations,
People talk of situations,
Read books, repeat quotations,
Draw conclusions on the wall.
Some speak of the future,
My love she speaks softly,
She knows there's no success like failure
And that failure's no success at all.

The cloak and dagger dangles,
Madams light the candles.
In ceremonies of the horsemen,
Even the pawn must hold a grudge.
Statues made of match sticks, Crumble into
One Another,
My love winks, she does not bother, She knows too much to
Argue or to judge.

The bridge at midnight trembles, The country doctor rambles
,
Bankers' nieces seek perfection, Expecting all the gifts
That wise men bring.
The Wind Howls like a hammer, The night blows
cold and rainy, My love she's like
Some
raven At my window with a broken wing.