Μια πρόταση από τον stcigar, ένα κομμάτι “με πολλούς αποδέκτες” όπως λέει. “Ο Momus το είχε γράψει για την M. Thacher, αλλά με κάποιες επουσιώδεις μικροαλλαγές ταιριάζει πολύ περισσότερο στην εποχή μας”. Δεν έχω να προσθέσω τίποτα παρά μόνο : προσοχή στους στίχους.

A proposal from stcigar, a song ”with many recipients” as he calls it. “Momus had written it for M. Thacher, but with some minor changes, it would be much more fitting for our times”.
I have nothing to add except: check out the lyrics of the song.

Before the accident you were just a square
And I was a Hell’s Angel in leathers and long hair
Before the accident you were a fanatic
And I was a motorbike mechanic
And which of us was stronger then
And which of us was stranger
A woman pumping iron or a liberal Hell’s Angel?
Before the accident when my somersaulting Triumph
Entered the gymnasium of the female Goliath
And I don’t know if you felt for me
Or if you shared my dreams
But when my speed machine hit your weight machine
I know you heard my screams
And across my leather jacket it says ‘Sex for the Disabled’
And across your macho breasts ‘Get fit for life’
Before the accident you kept out of sight
Working behind curtains till your body shape was right
The only man you touched was your tutor in karate
I fucked every eligible party
And which of us was crippled then
And which of us more painful?
A woman pumping iron or a liberal Hell’s Angel?
Before the accident when I careered akimbo
Through your plate glass window
And as I lay in agony from a thousand savage cuts
You privatised the hospital and you wished me luck
And across my leather jacket it says ‘Sex for the Disabled’
And across your macho breasts ‘Get fit for life’
Before the accident before ’79
Before the wheelchair that was such a difficult time
Every man an anarchist, we were all into ‘Zen
And the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance’ then
And which of us were hawks and which of us were doves?
When you broke off peace talks and we broke off free love
Before the accident when you came to power
And the poor got on their bikes and we got off ours
And the Age of Aquarius changed overnight
To an Age of Economists serving the right
Our Triumphs turned to wheelchairs, don’t times change?
Maybe we had nothing to lose but our chains
So now you’re the angels, the thugs in authority
And we’re just another castrated minority
And across our leather jackets it says ‘No Sex for the Disabled’
And across your macho breasts ‘Unfit for life’