这首歌的前奏，怎么听都是借用了名曲“Hotel California”，大家也来听听？
都只因你太好 找不到应走退路
我要进已无去路
进退 我不知点算好
不知点算好 心中只感燥暴
我似跳进八阵图 模糊地探讨
滴着热泪仍尽吐 心中丝丝爱慕
我已对你去尽了 心碎难补
但是现在还未到 虽则心声寄挂号
我纵已耗尽了 我满心爱慕
是爱慕 爱慕 叫我心痛苦
爱慕 爱慕 达到疯颠程度
只因想得太好 不可哑忍你的态度
我无怨你我恨糊涂
此刻 不知点算好
不知点算好 早经封锁心的退路
要去我也觉无去路 情感已经迷途
爱慕 令我迷途 爱慕 叫我心痛苦
爱慕 爱慕 令我糊涂 心迷路
附：Hotel California歌词及简介
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On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair
Warm smell of colitas rising up through the air
Up ahead in the distance, I saw a shimmering light
My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim
I had to stop for the night
There she stood in the doorway; I heard the mission bell
And I was thinking to myself this could be heaven or this could be hell
Then she lit up a candle, and she showed me the way
There were voices down the corridor, I thought I heard them say
Welcome to the Hotel California
Such a lovely place, such a lovely face
Plenty of room at the Hotel California
Any time of year (any time of year) you can find it here
Her mind is Tiffany twisted, she got the Mercedes bends
She got a lot of pretty, pretty boys that she calls friends
How they dance in the courtyard, sweet summer sweat
Some dance to remember, some dance to forget
So I called up the captain; please bring me my wine
We haven't had that spirit here since nineteen sixty-nine
And still those voices are calling from far away
Wake you up in the middle of the night, just to hear them say
Welcome to the Hotel California
Such a lovely place, such a lovely face
They livin' it up at the Hotel California
What a nice surprise (what a nice surprise) bring your alibis
Mirrors on the ceiling, the pink champagne on ice
And she said we are all just prisoners here of our own device
And in the master's chambers, they gathered for the feast
They stab it with their steely knives but they just can't kill the beast
Last thing I remember I was running for the door
I had to find the passage back to the place I was before
Relax said the nightman We are programmed to receive
You can check out anytime you like but you can never leave
网上关于Eagles的"Hotel California"的介绍几乎多到泛滥，自六七十年代摇滚乐的繁荣上升时期以来，数不清的人们被这首绝世佳作深深打动。有些乐队不但多产，而且精品甚多，Eagles也是这样，但是正因为这首"加州旅馆"太过出色，以至于人们只记得Eagles是唱"加州旅馆"的乐队。在九天音乐有整整一张cd。全是"加州旅馆"不同版本的演绎。但是总归最最动人、最最经典的，还是Eagles自己演绎的Unplugged版本，只有吉他、鼓声伴奏。步入中年的Eagles，光芒四射的舞台，唯一被人们记住的"Hotel California"，歌词里如同宿命般断言：你永远也离不开"Hotel California"了，Eagles的终生成就，似乎只有这首"Hotel California"，霜华染鬓，怕见人去，不如帘儿底下，静静听人欢笑，灯影车流中，穿越喧嚣繁华，"热闹是他们的,我什么也没有。"现场歌迷们的喝彩声浪里，是不被真正理解的Eagles的寂寞。
借用中国的一句古语"成也萧何、败也萧何"，可能是“Hotel California”太成功了，Eagles再也没有创作出超过“Hotel California”的作品。或许是听众们太苛刻了，他们对这首歌曲近乎于崇拜的喜爱，已使他们忽略了Eagles其他的单曲。更有甚者，据说Eagles到日本举行演唱会，演唱会第一支曲子就安排的是Hotel California，但演唱完这首曲子之后，音乐会就走了近一半的人。
“爱慕”与“加州旅馆”
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Can I put it here for your sunny smile?
It was good to be home. It was good to hear the wind across the green grass, to kiss its sweet kisses, as in the dream always. I bite my thumb, to feel the invigorating paint, like some reminder that I was awake and arrival.
By the river, under salley trees, I picked up concepts, dead/alive, in my mind, which was never lost but hidden somewhere. It seems not long ago, once I tired to reclaim my lost dates by simple reversing counting, swallowed the whole seeds of sunflower, dipped my whole body in the water. But I never got my lost back, or turned myself into a sunflower, or into the flexible transparent liquid. With so many ideas crowded in my little brain, my fear and wishes were paralyzed, as dead/alive somehow flowed softly out of my thinking.
However, that seems such a self-evident thing — that I, that we, are alive — and too often, I fear, we easily forget the importance of that simple fact. It is so easy to forget that you are truly alive, or at least, to appreciate that you are truly alive, that every sunrise is yours to view and every sunset is yours to enjoy. And all those hours in between, and all those hours after dusk, are yours to make of what you will.
It is easy to miss the possibility that every person who crosses your path can become an event and a memory, good or bad, to fill in the hours with experience instead of tedium, to break the monotony of the passing moments. Those wasted moments, those hours of sameness, of routine, are the enemy, I say, are little stretches of death within the moments of life, which sometimes, I feel, like swords kill the time and make me bleeding dying, and somehow inexplicable addiction.
It is good to be away home, as it pushes me to grow up, even though I kicked my suitcases, pretended to be sick many times for each living.
Survival independent makes me strong and thoughtful. There is an inescapable truth that I, we are all dying, every moment that passes of everyday. To be alive, under sunshine or under starlight, in weather fair or stormy, to dance every step, through gardens of bright flowers or through deep snows, I, we have to struggle up.
The young know this truth that so many of the old, or even middle-aged, have forgotten. Such is the source of the anger, the jealousy, that so many exhibit toward the young. So many times have I hared the common lament, “if only I could go back to that age, knowing what I now know!” those words amuse me profoundly, for in truth, the lament should be, “if I could reclaim the lust and the joy I knew then!”
That is the meaning of life, I have come at least to be understanding, and in that understanding, I have indeed found that lust and joy. A life of twenty years where that lust and joy, where that truth is understood might be more full than a life of centuries with head bowed and shoulders slumped.
It is good to construct a new home from a blank frame. Conflicts between ideas and realities, depression for fails and mistakes, exposure my deeply hidden conceit. Only God is almighty, loves are always easier to be accepted than to be given out.
It took me this long, through some bitter losses, to recognize the folly of that reasoning. It took me this long, to wake up to the life that is mine, to appreciate the beauty around me, to seek out and not shy away from the excitement that is there to be lived.
There remain worries and fears, of course. But I have accepted that this path is my own to choose, for the sake of all three – head, heart and body – have to combine together.
It was good to be home. It was good to hear the wind across the green grass, to kiss its sweet kisses, as in the dream always. I bite my thumb, to feel the invigorating paint, like some reminder that I was awake and arrival.
By the river, under salley trees, I picked up concepts, dead/alive, in my mind, which was never lost but hidden somewhere. It seems not long ago, once I tired to reclaim my lost dates by simple reversing counting, swallowed the whole seeds of sunflower, dipped my whole body in the water. But I never got my lost back, or turned myself into a sunflower, or into the flexible transparent liquid. With so many ideas crowded in my little brain, my fear and wishes were paralyzed, as dead/alive somehow flowed softly out of my thinking.
However, that seems such a self-evident thing — that I, that we, are alive — and too often, I fear, we easily forget the importance of that simple fact. It is so easy to forget that you are truly alive, or at least, to appreciate that you are truly alive, that every sunrise is yours to view and every sunset is yours to enjoy. And all those hours in between, and all those hours after dusk, are yours to make of what you will.
It is easy to miss the possibility that every person who crosses your path can become an event and a memory, good or bad, to fill in the hours with experience instead of tedium, to break the monotony of the passing moments. Those wasted moments, those hours of sameness, of routine, are the enemy, I say, are little stretches of death within the moments of life, which sometimes, I feel, like swords kill the time and make me bleeding dying, and somehow inexplicable addiction.
It is good to be away home, as it pushes me to grow up, even though I kicked my suitcases, pretended to be sick many times for each living.
Survival independent makes me strong and thoughtful. There is an inescapable truth that I, we are all dying, every moment that passes of everyday. To be alive, under sunshine or under starlight, in weather fair or stormy, to dance every step, through gardens of bright flowers or through deep snows, I, we have to struggle up.
The young know this truth that so many of the old, or even middle-aged, have forgotten. Such is the source of the anger, the jealousy, that so many exhibit toward the young. So many times have I hared the common lament, “if only I could go back to that age, knowing what I now know!” those words amuse me profoundly, for in truth, the lament should be, “if I could reclaim the lust and the joy I knew then!”
That is the meaning of life, I have come at least to be understanding, and in that understanding, I have indeed found that lust and joy. A life of twenty years where that lust and joy, where that truth is understood might be more full than a life of centuries with head bowed and shoulders slumped.
It is good to construct a new home from a blank frame. Conflicts between ideas and realities, depression for fails and mistakes, exposure my deeply hidden conceit. Only God is almighty, loves are always easier to be accepted than to be given out.
It took me this long, through some bitter losses, to recognize the folly of that reasoning. It took me this long, to wake up to the life that is mine, to appreciate the beauty around me, to seek out and not shy away from the excitement that is there to be lived.
There remain worries and fears, of course. But I have accepted that this path is my own to choose, for the sake of all three – head, heart and body – have to combine together.
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