Al final, todo pasa por la cama...

Son varias. Una dícese La comezón del séptimo año con Marilyn Monroe. Después hay una de Sabina y Paez -donde se recontra lucen las blacanblues- que ¡me encanta digan lo que digan! que se llama Llueve sobre mojado. Y esta esta otra, de Pulp, que dice así...

Live Bed Show

She doesn't have to go to work but she doesn't want to stay in bed
Cause it's changed from something comfortable to something else instead.
This bed has seen it all from the first time to the last
The silences of now and the good times of the past
And it only cost ten pounds from a shop just down the road
Mind you that was seven years ago and things were very different then.
It didn't get much rest at first, the headboard banging in the night.
The neighbours didn't dare complain and everything was going right.
Now there's no need to complain 'cos it never makes a sound.
Something beautiful left town and she doesn't even know its name.
Now every night she plays the sad game
Called pretending nothing's going wrong
But she knows if this show was televised no one would watch it
Not tonight but 7 years ago.
Now there's no need to complain
'cos it never makes a sound
Something beautiful left town and she never even knew its name.
She doesn't have to go to work but doesn't want to stay in bed
'cause it's changed from something wonderful to something else instead.

Entonces, me pregunto... ¿El siete es cabalística pura, es una premoción, es una regla física inmutable?
¿POR QUÉ PASA?
¿POR QUÉ SIEMPRE TODO PASA POR LA CAMA?

Groucho Amrx decía que en la cama uno come, sueña, duerme... uno realiza varias cosas naturales necesarias, bah... Y yo creo que en la cama, al igual que en el inodoro (el wc) es donde uno está más VULNERABLE que nunca... Ahí no hay máscara ni escudo que te salve.