Mi vida lejos de Nels Cline

[Hoy toca Wilco en Madrid y yo en mi casa, escuchándolos con el iPod]

There's a random painted highway
And a muzzle of bees
My sleeves have come unstitched
From climbing your tree
And dogs laugh, some say they're barking
I don't think they're mean
Some people get so frightened
Of the fences in between
And the sun gets passed from tree to tree
Silently, and back to me
With the breeze blown through
Pushed up against the sea
Finally back to me
I'm assuming you got my message
On your machine
I'm assuming you love me
And you know what that means
Sun gets passed, sea to sea
Silently, and back to me
With the breeze blown through
Pushed up above the leaves
With the breeze blown through
My head upon your knee
Half of it's you, half is me
Half of it's you, half is me

[Wilco, Muzzle of Bees]