OJOS VERDES
CARLOS CANO
COMPOSITORES: RAFAEL DE LÉON; SALVADOR VALVERDE & MANUEL QUIROGA
PAIS: ESPAÑA
ALBUM: LA COPLA MEMORIA SENTIMENTAL
DISCOGRÁFICA: EMI RECORDS
GÉNERO: COPLA
AÑO: 1999

José Carlos Cano Fernández, artísticamente conocido como Carlos Cano(Granada, 28 de enero de 1946 -ibídem, 19 de diciembre de 2000), fue un cantautor y poeta andaluz que recuperó estilos tradicionales andaluces relativamente olvidados como el trovo popular, y muy especialmente la copla, que recuperó para contemporaneizarla. Fue (y sigue siendo) un referente democrático y andalucista durante La Transición española y su música traspasó fronteras llegando a ser nexo de unión entre la cultura andaluza y la cultura latinoamericana. Entre sus amistades destaca la cantante María Dolores Pradera, con quien interpretó en numerosas ocasiones muchas de sus coplas, que a la vez tomaron mucha fama.
Apoyá en el quicio de la mancebía,

miraba encenderse la noche de Mayo.
Pasaban los hombres
y yo sonreía,
hasta que en mi puerta paraste el caballo.
Serrana me das candela
y yo te dije gaché.
Ay ven
y tómame mis labios
y yo fuego te daré.
Dejaste el caballo
y lumbre te dí
y fueron dos verdes luceros de Mayo tus ojos pa' mí.

Ojos verdes,
verdes como,
la albahaca.
Verdes como el trigo verde
y el verde, verde limón.
Ojos verdes, verdes
con brillo de faca
que se han clavaito en mi corazón.
Pa mí ya no hay soles,
lucero, ni luna,
No hay más que unos ojos que mi vida son.
Ojos verdes, verdes como
la albahaca.
Verdes como el trigo verde
y el verde, verde limón.
Vimos desde el cuarto despertar el día,
y sonar el alba en la torre la vela.
Dejaste mi brazo cuando amanecía
y en mi boca un gusto a menta y canela.
Serrana para un vestido yo te quiero regalar.
Yo te dije está cumplio,
no me tienes que dar ná.
Subiste al caballo
te fuiste de mí,
y nunca otra noche
mas bella de Mayo han vuelto a vivir.
TALKING BACK TO THE NIGHT
STEVE WINWOOD
SONGWRITERS: STEVE WINWOOD & WILL JENNINGS
COUNTRY: U. K.
ALBUM: TALKING BACK TO THR NIGHT
LABEL: ISLAND RECORDS
GENRE: ROCK
YEAR: 1982

Talking Back to the Night is the third solo studio album by English recording artist Steve Winwood. Released less than two years after the top 3 hit Arc of a Diver, it failed to see as much success as its predecessor, reaching #28 on the Billboard 200. "Valerie" was a minor hit in 1982, but when it was remixed and re-released in 1987 for Chronicles, the newer version of the song became a top 10 hit. The album tracks "Help Me Angel" and "Talking Back to the Night" were also re-recorded for Chronicles. The latter was then released for the first time as a single.
Winwood performed all of the instruments on this album.
High above the heat of a summer New York street
An out-of-work musician plays a solo saxophone
He's a preacher and a teacher
And he stands up all alone

Stranded in the dark of a vision in the park
A poet in his madness tries to find another line
And he's losing and he's using
And he says he's doing fine

And they look from such a height
That somehow it's all right
They're talking back to the night
It's all that they can do
Talking back to the night
It's how they make it through
If you listen you can hear them
Their voices draw you near them
They're talking back to the night for you

Something seems to take every dime the man can make
His dream is getting smaller and he wonders where to turn
And he's trying hard to make it
And he's trying not to burn

Woman never minds, pulls the shade and draws the blinds
She takes him in the darkness where the loneliest can feed
She gives him all she has to
And it's no more than he needs.
THIS AIN'T THE SUMMER OF LOVE
BLUE OYSTER CULT
SONGWRITERS: MURRAY KRUGMAN; DONALD WALLER & ALBERT BOUCHARD
COUNTRY:
ALBUM: AGENTS OF FORTUNE
LABEL:COLUMBIA RECORDS
GENRE: HARD ROCK
YEAR: 1976

Agents of Fortune is the fourth studio album by American hard rock band Blue Öyster Cult, originally released by Columbia Records in 1976.
The Platinum-selling album peaked at #29 on the United States Billboard chart, while the cryptic single "(Don't Fear) The Reaper" peaked at #7 in Cash Box magazine and at #12 on the Billboard Hot 100 singles chart, making it Blue Öyster Cult's biggest hit.
The band also became a larger concert attraction at this time—largely based on not only their stageshow, but aided by the airplay of "(Don't Fear) The Reaper", which to this day is a staple of FM rock station playlists. Concert venues became larger, the show became more intricate and BÖC was reaching its commercial peak on the tour circuit.
Feeling easy on the outside
But not so funny on the inside
Feel the sound, pray for rain
For this is the night we ride

This ain't the garden of eden
There ain't no angels above
And things ain't like what they used to be
And this ain't the summer of love

Lock all your doors from the outside
The key will dangle by the inside
You may begin to understand
That this is the night we ride

This ain't the garden of eden
There ain't no angels above
And things ain't like what they used to be
And this ain't the summer of love

On the night we ride...this ain't the summer of love.

This ain't the garden of eden
There ain't no angels above
And things ain't like what they used to be
And this ain't the summer of love
This ain't the summer, this ain't, this ain't
This ain't the summer of love.
AQUALUNG
JETHRO TULL
Ian Scott Anderson, Jenny Anderson
COUNTRY: U.S.A.
ALBUM: AQUALUNG
LABEL: ISLAND RECORDS
GENRE: PROGRESSIVE ROCK
YEAR: 1971

"Aqualung" is a song by the British progressive rock band Jethro Tull, and the title track from their Aqualung(1971) album. The song was written by the band's frontman, Ian Anderson, and his then-wife Jennie Franks.
While this track was never a single, its eponymous album Aqualung was Jethro Tull's first American Top 10 album, reaching number seven in June 1971. 
Sitting on the park bench
Eyeing little girls with bad intent.
Snot is running down his nose
Greasy fingers smearing shabby clothes.

Hey Aqualung
Drying in the cold sun
Watching as the frilly panties run.
Hey Aqualung
Feeling like a dead duck
Spitting out pieces of his broken luck.
Whoa, Aqualung

Sun streaking cold
An old man wandering lonely.
Taking time
The only way he knows.
Leg hurting bad,
As he bends to pick a dog-end
He goes down to the bog
And warms his feet.

Feeling alone
The army's up the road
Salvation à la mode and a cup of tea

Aqualung my friend
Don't you start away uneasy
You poor old sot, you see, it's only me.

Do you still remember
The December's foggy freeze
When the ice that
Clings on to your beard was
Screaming agony.
And you snatch your rattling last breaths
With deep-sea-diver sounds,
And the flowers bloom like
Madness in the spring.

Sun streaking cold
An old man wandering lonely.
Taking time
The only way he knows.
Leg hurting bad,
As he bends to pick a dog-end
He goes down to the bog
And warms his feet.

Feeling alone
The army's up the road
Salvation à la mode and a cup of tea

Aqualung my friend
Don't you start away uneasy
You poor old sot, you see, it's only me.

Aqualung my friend
Don't you start away uneasy
You poor old sot, you see, it's only me.

Sitting on the park bench
Eyeing little girls with bad intent.
Snot is running down his nose
Greasy fingers smearing shabby clothes.

Hey Aqualung
Drying in the cold sun
Watching as the frilly panties run.
Hey Aqualung
Feeling like a dead duck
Spitting out pieces of his broken luck.
Hey Aqualung
Whoa, Aqualung