A worried man with a worried mind
No one in front of me and nothing behind
There’s a woman on my lap and she’s drinking champagne
Got white skin, got assassin’s eyes
I’m looking up into the sapphire tinted skies
I’m well dressed, waiting on the last train

Standing on the gallows with my head in a noose
Any minute now I’m expecting all hell to break loose

People are crazy and times are strange
I’m locked in tight, I’m out of range
I used to care, but things have changed

This place ain’t doing me any good
I’m in the wrong town, I should be in Hollywood
Just for a second there I thought I saw something move
Gonna take dancing lessons do the jitterbug rag
Ain’t no shortcuts, gonna dress in drag
Only a fool in here would think he’s got anything to prove

Lot of water under the bridge, Lot of other stuff too
Don’t get up gentlemen, I’m only passing through

People are crazy and times are strange
I’m locked in tight, I’m out of range
I used to care, but things have changed

I’ve been walking forty miles of bad road
If the bible is right, the world will explode
I’ve been trying to get as far away from myself as I can
Some things are too hot to touch
The human mind can only stand so much
You can’t win with a losing hand

Feel like falling in love with the first woman I meet
Putting her in a wheel barrow and wheeling her down the street

People are crazy and times are strange
I’m locked in tight, I’m out of range
I used to care, but things have changed

I hurt easy, I just don’t show it
You can hurt someone and not even know it
The next sixty seconds could be like an eternity
Gonna get low down, gonna fly high
All the truth in the world adds up to one big lie
I’m in love with a woman who don’t even appeal to me

Mr. Jinx and Miss Lucy, they jumped in the lake
I’m not that eager to make a mistake

People are crazy and times are strange
I’m locked in tight, I’m out of range
I used to care, but things have changed

Bob Dylan, Things Have Changed.

«En el comienzo del amanecer, el día va dándose vuelta, a pausas; casi se oyen los goznes de la tierra que giran enmohecidos; la vibración de esta tierra vieja que vuelca su oscuridad».
Juan Rulfo. Pedro Páramo.

Duermo acurrucado en posición fetal al borde de la cama. Estoy desbordado, y eso me hace buscar la huída. Sólo vivo en esta casa, así que no puedo huir a ninguna otra parte. Por eso me acurruco, en la cama, con alguna película invisible que da compañía. No me despejo. De hecho cada segundo estoy más y más confuso.

Trabajo atrasado, sueño atrasado, cosas pendientes que nunca hago. Me doy la vuelta, perseguido por los pensamientos. Quiero estar otra vez en Ávila, por ejemplo. Allí no había ordenador reclamando.

Me sobrepongo. Me levanto, cojo el teclado. Ha sido un instante, pero no sé hasta qué momento. No sé hasta cuándo.

«Y en fin para que nazca un artista se precisa
que nazca un niño y luego no muera del disgusto.»
José Agustín Goytisolo. Sobre las circunstancias.

PD y exabrupto: ya está solucionado el problema con la escritura de comentarios.