mis días sin ti son tan oscuros tan largos tan grises mis días sin ti mis días sin ti son tan absurdos tan agrios tan duros mis dias sin ti mis días sin ti no tienen noches si alguna aparece es inútil dormir mis días sin ti son un derroche las horas no tienen principio, ni fin tan faltos de aire tan llenos de nada chatarra inservible basura en el suelo moscas en la casa

Shakira, Moscas en la casa

Kurt Halsey

"And I heard, as it were, the noise of thunder: One of the four beasts saying: "Come and see." And I saw. And behold, a white horse."

There's a man goin' 'round takin' names.

An' he decides who to free and who to blame.

Everybody won't be treated all the same.

There'll be a golden ladder reaching down.

When the man comes around.

The hairs on your arm will stand up.

At the terror in each sip and in each sup.

For you partake of that last offered cup,

Or disappear into the potter's ground.

When the man comes around.

Hear the trumpets, hear the pipers.

One hundred million angels singin'.

Multitudes are marching to the big kettle drum.

Voices callin', voices cryin'.

Some are born an' some are dyin'.

It's Alpha's and Omega's Kingdom come.

And the whirlwind is in the thorn tree.

The virgins are all trimming their wicks.

The whirlwind is in the thorn tree.

It's hard for thee to kick against the pricks.

Till Armageddon, no Shalam, no Shalom.

Then the father hen will call his chickens home.

The wise men will bow down before the throne.

And at his feet they'll cast their golden crown.

When the man comes around.

Whoever is unjust, let him be unjust still.

Whoever is righteous, let him be righteous still.

Whoever is filthy, let him be filthy still.

Listen to the words long written down,

When the man comes around.

In measured hundredweight and penny pound.

When the man comes around.

"And I heard a voice in the midst of the four beasts, And I looked and behold: a pale horse. And his name, that sat on him, was Death. And Hell followed with him."

Johnny Cash, The Man Comes Around

Art Daniel Martín Díaz

"...Mr. Kapuchitsky, do you now what money means in a poor country? Money in a poor country and money in a rich country are two different things. In a rich country, money is a piece of paper with which you buy goods on the market. You are only a costumer. Even a millionaire is a costumer. He may purchase more, but he remains a costumer, nothing more. And in a poor country? In a poor country money is a wonderful, thick hedge, dazzling and always blooming, which separates you from everything else. Though that hedge you do not see creeping poverty, you do not smell the stench of misery and you do no hear the voices of the human dregs. But at the same time you know that all that exists, and you feel proud because of your hedge. You have money: that means you have wings. You are the bird of paradise that everyone admires".

E. to Ryszard Kapuscinski, The Emperor

Won't you scratch my itch sweet Annie Rich And welcome me back to town Come out on your porch or I'll step into your parlor And I'll show you how it all went down Out with the truckers and the kickers and the cowboy angels And a good saloon in every single town Oh, and I remember something you once told me And I'll be damned if it did not come true Twenty thousand roads I went down, down, down And they all lead me straight back home to you`Cause I headed West to grow up with the country Across those prairies with the waves of grain And I saw my devil, and I saw my deep blue sea And I thought about a calico bonnet from Cheyenne to Tennessee

Gram Parsons, Return of the Grievous Angel (Ryan Adams's Version)

"When I found the skull in the woods, the first thing I did was call the police. But then I got curious about it. I picked it up, and started wondering who this person was, and why he had deer horns."

Jack Handey, Deep Thoughts

Art by David Stoupakis

I met a woman

She had a mouth like yours

She knew your life

She knew your devils and your deeds

And she said "Go to him,

stay with him if you can

But be prepared to bleed"

Oh but you are in my blood

You're my holy wine

You're so bitter, bitter and so sweet

Oh, I could drink a case of you darling

Still I'd be on my feet

I would still be on my feet

Joni Mitchell, A Case Of You

Man In Black Attitude