You clatter 'bout the café like Popeye's girlfriend,
you fruit-spangled, tangled mess of limbs
If I were there too I'd give myself to you,
but I don't know where there is
You trip down the stairs to rinse your cherries
mid the pissing and the flush-hissing din
If I were in that loo I'd give myself to you,
but I don't know where that loo is
I'd know you in a trice by day or by night,
by your taste, by that sweet and sour tinge
But I can't find you to give myself to
when I don't even know what state you're in
Listen you finely chiseled cherry fiend,
you slash painted woman of whim
I'm trying to find you to give my heart to
'fore it overflows and floods me in
>>
The cracked brow crowns your face, you're picking cherries some place:
Oh show me the way to go there
All that's left here of your grace is the fast fading trace
of your hands and your teeth on my skin
It's a wonder to behold but with the trail getting cold,
it's not the map to take me to your lair
And every day's as wrong as a bad song is long
when I don't know where you're going or where you've been
Your eyes are wee black marbles upraised to gaze
on God knows what: I wish I knew
I'm waiting for those gems to roll my way again
but God knows if they're ever going to
Your smile is long and silent like a summer day in Lapland
as you stare down the saucy sea
If I could be there too I'd give my heart to you
but God knows what the hell sea that might be
>>>>
I can wake up; I can fall out of bed
Drink coffee, blow smoke rings and have a conversation
I can serve the occasional ace and almost steal third base
I can sing "The International" with little hesitation
I can do fifty push-ups if I must
I can chop wood and split hairs better than some
But all that's just a handful of dust
If I haven't found you when all is said and done
From the Bowery to Barbès to the Dolomites,
your cherry scent stretches me all across the night
And as it slips down the Ramblas to meet the morning light,
the longing ache is eating up my sight
If my legs give out too, know that my heart hasn't,
know that it never could
But there's just so much you can ask of a body,
when a body's not made of wood
If I should fail to bridge the ghastly gap that's come between
come between me and your arms,
Know that I died trying, darling,
know I fell for your sweet and sour charms
>>
You stumble o'er the steppe like a cutloose colt,
a filly willow waltzing wolves in the wind
If I could catch that wind I'd ride it into your limbs
but I don't know where that wind blows
You rattle 'round the café leaving carnage in your wake,
ever merry on another cherry binge
If I could track that trail of pits I'd trace it to your lips
but I don't have a wolf's nose
You finally sit down to frown over the scrapes
and the black and blue shapes on your shins
If I were there too I'd give myself to you
but God knows what the hell café you're in
Listen you manic cherry aria!
You knock-kneed harmony! You sublime, slim hymn!
I have to find you to give my heart to
before it boils over and does me in
"I'm losing the North", as they say in France
My heart's on fire and my head's in a trance
My hands are frozen and my feet won't dance
God I've fallen in love; I don't have a chance
"Can't live if you don't love," they say in Spain
But this kind of love only drives you insane
I'm reeling down the rapids of a river of champagne
Where the curves curl my nerves and the bubbles numb my brain
So just shoot me; get it over with
Do it while I'm not looking
Just shoot me in the back, you dog
You can do it while I'm cooking
Just shoot me
Put me out of my misery
Before lunch or after dinner
Damn-it darling, set me free
"My mind's gone south," as they say in the West
It's Judy Garland at her worst - love-cursed and obsessed
My body's out to lunch and my flesh takes the cake
I want to sleep like a stiff, yeah, and never have to wake
You caught my heart, honey, before I knew I threw it
And it was all so lush and rummy, I couldn't stop to rue it
But I see the end in your eyes; I hear goodbyes in your sighs
And in the shadow of your lies there's the chill of our demise
So just shoot me; get it over with
Call it a preemptive strike
Before church or after sex
Whatever way you like
Chérie/cheri, shoot me
Come on and blow out my light
God knows you're going do it some day girl/boy
So why not do it tonight?
Come on and shoot me
Put me out of my misery
Before lunch or after dinner
Pull the trigger and set me free
Maintenant il s'agit d'autre chose
Maintenant il s'agit d'un élan qui arrose
Maintenant il s'agit de corps qui coulent
Maintenant il s'agit d'eau... eau qui soûle
Maintenant, après cent ans de plafonds en pierre,
il s'agit de sabler le grand ciel
Maintenant, après les cendres et la poussière,
il tombe une pluie d'eau de vie... et de miel
Maintenant il s'agit de soif assouvie
par la chair de cette sœur qui m'enivre de son flot
Maintenant il s'agit d'une hydrofurie
qui crache sur mes creux et qui mâche mes maux
Son cœur est une rivière qui enlace mes os
et sa bouche est une lame qui me sillonne le dos
Blanche de l'œil et noire du cerveau
Elle est rouge du nez et bleu méditerranée... de sa peau
>>
Maintenant il s'agit de la première brèche
dans le mur de la mer d'accumulations
Maintenant il s'agit d'âmes qui débordent
d'une cascade de colères et d'une vague de passions,
de nuits et de cris et de lamentations,
d'un puits plein d'ennui et d'excitation,
de volonté explosée et de désolation,
d'amour sans cours et d'un fleuve... d'exaltation
Et le choc de cette eau relâchée,
pourrait briser tout joug et tout éclabousser
La masse de ce flot redirigé
saurait porter ma haine, couler ma peine et noyer... le soleil
>>
Maintenant il s'agit d'autre chose
D'eau forte, eau douce, eau de sexe, eau de rose
Maintenant il s'agit d'une cracheuse d'eau
qui pleut sur mes feux et se moque de mes maux
Son corps m'endort dans le lit de sa houle
où ses baisers me nourrissent d'eau qui soûle
Maintenant il s'agit de caresses qui coulent
Maintenant il s'agit d'eau... eau qui soûle
The Chinese think that they're at a new dawn
and they'll all be smoking Camels and leaving lights on ...
before too long
The Chinese think that it's their turn to eat like pigs and waste and burn
from Beijing to Hong Kong
The Chinese think that the day isn't far when they won't be as hot and cold as they are
but they're wrong
Yes the Chinese think that some day they’ll be as temperature-controlled as the U.S.A. but they're wrong
We've already eaten and there's no more room at the table
We got there first and we're not giving any ground
There's not enough bread and rivers and trees and
profit and plums and ease to go around
The ozone's thinning, the ocean's brimming & the ice caps are melting down
So forget green and blue and get used to foul yellow and sallow brown
The Russians thought they were singing our song
and they'd all be stars driving cars with bars before too long
The Africans thought that before too long they'd be less hot and hungry, less put upon but they were wrong
The wolves know that something's happening here but they don't know what it is
They don't understand the new rules
The wolves can't kill at a distance to save their land and lives,
no, the wolves lack certain vital tools
The wolves know almost everything from a scent or a sound or a sight
except how to survive white biped rapacity
Wisdom born of natural selection and being there forever
can't parry profit's craven audacity
Can't get you a bed in the stable and anyway, you're already beaten
Can't get you a seat at the table and anyway, we've already eaten
Can't fight burning and looting by pig-bellied market forces
Can't force the gain-insane to re-seed the vital sources
Can't fight for a piece of the cake when there's no cake being created
When it's ad campaigns and video games until the market's satiated
When it's suck, suck, suck, suck sucking the blood of the earth
And we'll suck and suck as long as we can suck anything of worth
We'll turn it into television, casinos, cars and crack
and any other soul-hole-filler that you think you lack
You might swim to the great sea of material contentment
but you'll never dive any deeper than visceral resentment
Your hunger will always burn, no matter how much you earn
for there's no more room at the table and it'll never be your turn
The feast is finished; there's no more bread to be broken,
so go have another bunch of babies and stop banging on the door
And teach your children craving now and how to be poor -
how you brought them here for nothing with nothing decent to fight for
You caught our infection for naught; there's no more chicken in the pot,
so what's the point of class war when we've already emptied the store?
Oh the wolves would explain it if we would read what's written in their core
but the wolves ain't around much anywhere, anyhow, anymore
And I want to be a wolf and dig a hole into the past
I want wolf dreams; I want to sleep, sleep, sleep, sleep at last
I want to sleep in a curl of wolf warmth and eat antelope to break my fast
And o'er an ocean of winter white at midnight, catch the wind in my lupine grasp
Oh the magnificent mechanism and prancing steel-spring paws!
Oh the canine catechism of dancing natural laws!
Oh the fine-tuned cataclysm and steel clamp, mighty, miracle jaws!
Oh the wolf, oh the wolves, oh the ancient soul, oh the howl and the cry!
Oh the wolf, oh the wolves, oh the edge and the exquisite pale eye...
Oh I, Oh I... maybe I... With no hope of sleep as dawn is nigh,
no hope in dreams or in another's sigh, maybe I, maybe I, maybe I, maybe I
haven't eaten... and I, maybe I, maybe I, maybe I
like the earth, rent by dearth and desecration, bent by birth and occupation,
rent by scorn and recreation, like the wolf, like the wolf...
maybe I feel like I, Lord, I feel like I am fixing to die
Maybe I, maybe I am fixing to die
John and Mary are having a baby, whoopy tie whoopy tie yie yay
He's got no job, don't listen to God
but at least now we know he ain't gay
John and Mary are having a baby, whoopy tie whoopy tie yie yin
The boy's surely turning a new leaf now
and finally trying to fit in
John and Mary are having a baby, whoopy tie whoopy tie yie yay
She won't be finishing school now
but school wasn't for her anyway
John and Mary are having a baby, whoopy tie whoopy tie yo yin
Yes the girl had a pretty bad hole to fill
since she gave up heroin
>
Mary's having a baby because she had sex
and condoms got on John's nerves
Mary's having a baby because she got pregnant
and John says abortion's for the birds
Mary's having a baby because her life felt empty
and everything around her felt wrong
Mary's having a baby because she wants her own apartment
and it might make things better with John
And John's having a baby because he had sex with Mary...
John and Mary are having a baby, whoopy tie whoopy tie yie yack
A kid just might be the ticket
to getting him on the right track
John and Mary are having a baby, whoopy tie whoopy tie yie yin
Never seemed to care much for children,
but one of his own could make a man of him
John and Mary are having a baby, whoopy tie whoopy tie yie ying
She'll surely be growing up now
and start doing the right thing
John and Mary are having a baby, whoopy tie whoopy tie yie ying
She's just so thrilled, fulfilled and serene,
maybe she'll even stop drinking
>
Now being a breeder does not necessarily
a real mother or father make
When the miracle's done there's a marathon to run
A whole damn life's at stake
And the old globe can only carry so many,
already bending under the weight
But John and Mary'll be fruit flies forever
and keep breeding just because they're straight...
John and Mary are having a baby, whoopy tie whoopy tie yie yay
You don't need a license and you don't have to pay;
It's a game any half-wit can play
John and Mary are having a baby, whoopy tie whoopy tie yie yay
The sex was easy, quick and breezy
Oh hell what a wonderful day!
OH GOD GIVE ME CRACK THAT'll LAST A LIFETIME,
AS LONG AS LIFE APPALLS
BEFORE THE INIQUITY BREAKS MY BACK,
LORD GIVE ME SOME KIND OF WALLS
I NEED A DRUG LIKE SILKEN ARMOR, LORD,
SO PLEASE HEAR MY CALL
FOR THE HUNGER THAT'S EATING OUR SOULS,
LORD, IT WANTS TO EAT MY ALL
LET'S HEAR IT NOW FOR FREE MARKET INSANITY
BYE BYE INTELLIGENCE AND BONJOUR CALAMITY
SOCIALISM STINKS, SO LET'S LISTEN TO OUR INSTINCTS
THERE'S NO USE CRYING OVER SPOILED HUMANITY
>>
OH GOD GIVE ME A LOVE HARD AND POUNDING –
A RIVER THAT'LL RAGE FOREVER
AGAINST THE PROFANE BANE ABOUNDING,
GIVE ME TEETH WITHOUT A TETHER
I NEED A LOVE THAT BURNS WHEN MY STOMACH TURNS,
A LOVE THAT MAKES A STAND
FOR THE LIES THAT ICE OUR HEARTS, LORD,
THEY STILL GOT THE RUN OF THE LAND
LET'S HEAR IT NOW FOR AMORAL OPULENCE
DEPRAVED CRAPULENCE AND THE QUEST FOR GAIN
HERMES JEEPS FOR THE CITY, MERCEDES SHEETS FOR THE BEACH
AND ROLEX UMBRELLAS FOR THE RAIN AND THE PAIN
How the hell, God, how the hell not go insane?
Now my arms are bent and broken from holding and hugging clouds
My hands are ripped and stripped from grasping greasy ropes of hope
My mouth is torn and weary from kissing empty shrouds
My eyes are worn and teary from reading shadows and smoke
And my lungs are shot from breathing delusions, illusions and tripe
My feet are cracked and bleeding from running on empty life
My heart is hard and seething from beating through endless blight
My brain is barren and bereaving in a winter without a splinter of light
>>
OH GIVE ME A ZONE WHERE THE BLOODSUCKERS ROAM
AND THE BROKERS AND PREDATORS PLAY
WHERE SELDOM IS HEARD A DISCOURAGING WORD;
ADVERTISING AND RELIGION ALL DAY
THEN GIVE ME A BOMB, LORD, AS BIG AS A HOUSE
AND DROP IT IN THE MIDDLE OF THIS MESS
BLOW THE LEECHES TO HELL LORD AND SAVE THIS SWEET WORLD FROM FOUL, FREE MARKET EXCESS
Then God let us all be, let us all be Godless.
Now my arms are bent and broken from holding and hugging clouds
My hands are ripped and stripped from greasy ropes of hope
My mouth is torn and weary from kissing empty shrouds
My eyes are worn and teary from reading shadows and smoke
And my lungs are shot from breathing delusions, illusions and tripe
My feet are cracked and bleeding from running on empty life
My heart is hard and seething from beating through endless blight
My brain is barren and bereaving in a winter without a splinter of light
My ears are jammed with a cancer of lies, good buys and vile sounds
My spirit is sick with horseshit and crushed by a mountain of wrong
My stomach is choked by the creeping spleen of disgust that knows no bounds
My throat is scorched from the embers of another burned-out song
MIGUEL ANGEL ESCOBAR
Je ne suis pas heureux mais maman je suis mené
Je suis mené dedans, à l'abri de la cruauté
Je suis mené au fond des eaux sacrées
du bain clément du refuge de la beauté
Et si ce n'est pas une femme alors la frappe du cognac
pourrait faire bouclier contre toute attaque
La lave me coule dans la gorge pour parer l'assaut
et j'éponge le poison comme le sable prend l'eau
O whisky! Vas-y! Apporte l'exaltation!
Tuons le temps en descendant, en attendant la damnation ...
Voilà qu'elle arrive. Elle arrive...
Du fond de mon âme monte la mofette de la gangrène
On sent l'abcès espagnol qui embrase mon haleine
On voit la terre infecte qui brûle d'exploser
On goûte l'orage dans le vent des champs méprisés
Mon sang est du plomb et ma peau est défaite
Mon échine fond et mes os sont en craie
Le soleil est ma garrotte et la lune veut ma tête
J'entends mon Caïn dans ma gorge et il veut m'égorger
Quand il arrive. Il arrive :
ZORRO
Prélat hypocrite et riches désœuvrés:
Ecoutez l'aria qui coule de mon pistolet
Si vous tentez de vous planquer dans vos prieurés
Je flairerai la visqueuse trace de votre race de limace
et j'éclaterai l'édifice de votre monde encrassé
C'est 1936... Que la volonté de l'histoire soit fêtée
MIGUEL ANGEL ESCOBAR
Je suis la décharge perdue du caciquismo
Une sangsue mal sevrée comme tout señorito
Je suis une tache superflue, fils d'un cochon fou
qui me tend le blason d'un patron andalou
Mais j'ai cette prière à l'intérieur
J'ai cet instrument d'expiation
Je saurai payer tous les péchés de mon sang
quand ce sabre apportera la révélation
Voilà qu'elle arrive. Elle arrive. Elle arrive. Elle arrive.
ZORRO
Je partirai avec les justes sur la route de la gloire
J'assignerai la justice, habillé de noir
Je suis la colère des martyrs et l'outil de l'histoire
Gare les maudits ! De peur de mon échaudoir
Serpents, seigneurs et sacerdoce pourris
Ecoutez la mélodie que chante mon fusil
Vous pouvez chercher refuge dans vos sacristies
Mais je flairerai la trace de votre race dégueulasse
et je ferai sauter toutes vos vieilles Bastilles
Entourées, nous sommes, par des hommes
La triste fin des garçons devenus vieux
La dégénérescence du corps et de l'esprit
Quand la femme est chassée de chez eux
La voix s'engraisse de fumée et de peur
La chair s'empâte partout et ailleurs
Les poils épais profanent la peau vierge
Quand la mère cède la place au père
Comme ses cheveux s'effilent, ainsi tombe l'amour
C'est plus facile pour lui de vivre la haine
Ils trompètent, ils tapent, ils prennent des armes pour
chasser de chez eux toute trace d'œstrogène
Comme son ventre se gonfle ainsi va la fierté
Quand le sang de l'homme va celui de la femme chasser
Avec les deux il pourrait mieux s'aimer
Mais le sang de l'homme va celui de la femme chasser
Comme sa peur se gonfle ainsi va la fierté
Quand le sang de l'homme va celui de la femme chasser
Avec les deux, il pourrait mieux respirer
Mais le sang de l'homme va celui de la femme chasser
Margaret Thatcher est si affreuse
que pour se maquiller il lui faut une agrafeuse
Nancy Reagan est tellement monstrueuse
qu'elle se coiffe à l'aide d'une motofaucheuse
Brigitte Bardot a toujours été un cageot
Elle effarouche les plus farouches de ses chiens
Leni Riefensthal est moche jusqu'à la moelle
Le bon reflet de son art Hitlérien
Line Renaud fait un peu crapaud
mais pas autant que Marie-France Garaud
Alors on ouvre les yeux et on respire mieux
quand elles se cachent derrière leurs Figaro
Mireille Darc a l'air assez smart
tant qu'on ne la voit pas de près
Mais même cette Mireille est une vraie beauté
à côté des dames Stirbois et Megret...
L'habit fait le moine et l'air fait la chanson
L'envie de jambon fait cochon qui boite
Et comme on dit en français, du terroir à l'Elysée :
Il n'y a pas de jolie fille à droite
Pardon mais, comme on dit en latin : Facit indignatio versum
Depuis qu'elle envoie au président Chirac
les plus belles de ses fleurs
Marie-José Pérec a perdu son éclat
sauf aux yeux des publicitaires
Et Françoise Hardy est bien plus jolie
depuis qu'elle ne salue plus les copains réactionnaires
Les Spice Girls hideuses sont bien plus disgracieuses
depuis qu'elles vénèrent Madame Thatcher
A Salt Lake City au fond de mon pays
les filles du coin font vraiment peur
Car ces Américaines votent Républicain
comme l'effrayante femme de mon frère
L'habit fait le moine et l'air fait la chanson
Caresser la crasse fait des mains moites
Et comme on dit en français et Dieu sait si c'est vrai :
Il n'y a pas de jolie fille à droite
Et, comme on dit en italien : Se non è vero, è bene trovato...
Eva Braun avait une dégaine, une dégaine si vilaine
que son fiancé l'a épousée en cachette
Mais peu de temps après il a dû la regarder
et il s'est tiré une balle dans la tête...
L'habit fait le moine et l'air fait la chanson
Et quand une femme tourne à droite, elle va contre ses dons
Elle va contre son cœur et son âme se déboîte
Les ténèbres la pénètrent et le diable l'exploite
Et ça se voit à la perte de sa beauté
Sa nature révoltée dans ses yeux miroite
Alors on dit en français, je ne l'ai pas inventé :
Il n'y a pas de jolie fille à droite
Et, comme on dit chez moi : On the left they're hot and on the right they're not
I had a dream about a world gone right
that buried my spleen in a sleep-soaked night
I had a dream about heaven on earth
and no need to cringe before a new birth
I see the righteous resurrected, in this dream,
to embrace my soiled country and purge it clean
They sweep in like angels to dump their cups of wrath
on every traitor to humanity caught in their path
I see Chief Joseph standing there, alive as you or me
Says I: "But Chief, you're 90 years dead" "Touch me," says he
And next to him there's Wobbly Joe Hill, smiling with his eyes
Says Joe: "Ya, sure they killed us once but now we're back to organize"
I see Frederick Douglass and Mother Jones remaking the world over tea
while Emma Goldman and Thomas Paine fall in love over whisky
And then this dream sings the sweetest of its themes:
I see winter beget spring and Anne-Marie comes back to me
Anne-Marie comes back to me
She wraps me in her arms like a thirsty tree
She says she had to leave to know what she lost
and she's sorry for any hell-holes I might have crossed
Anne-Marie comes back to me
and wraps me in her arms like a thirsty tree
And if I take her back, says she, she'll make it up to me
with love and courage enough to save me from insanity
When the class war's over in this dream I see
Newt Gingrich on Main Street locked in the pillory
I see the market upended and the constitution amended
to prohibit pure profit and gross inequality
Jesse Helms chokes on his own mean-hearted stupidity
and he's buried in the cemetery of the enemies of common decency
He gets to lick Franco's gun and oil the bones of Attila the Hun
But with the worms and no sun old Jesse's hardly having fun
In this dream, only baseball players wear baseball caps
and only players of sports wear sports clothes and shoes
I see Nike nationalized and its slaver-owners slapped
and Spike Lee apologizes for pumping up Nike revenues
When I see Michael Jordan making 50,000 a year
and still playing like a God I have to wipe away a tear
And when the Chicago Cubs make it to the World Series
I know heaven's here and my eyes go bleary
I see the prohibition of four-wheel drive, luxury metal boxes
for anyone but mountain goats and high desert foxes
I see tobacco tycoons replacing dogs smoking in clinical tests
I see the nation washed of speculation and the exploitation of debts
I see casinos burning and the buffalo returning
and ire and brimstone raining down on Bill Gates
I see all babies born being wanted and welcomed
and solidarity based on class now sooner than race
I see churches turned into museums and Disneyland ground to a halt
I see McDonalds turned into sculpture and Salt Lake City turned to salt
I see truth become the new God and Orwell the new prophet
and when slime assaults a woman I see society stop it
I see Hollywood in flames and it's royals in chains
before they're sent off to rehab farms to learn to serve humanity
And then this dream ignites and pipes its sweetest melody
as night gives way to day and Anne-Marie comes back to me
Anne-Marie comes back to me
She wraps me in her arms like a thirsty tree
She says she had to leave to know what she lost
And she's sorry for any hell-holes I might have crossed
Anne-Marie comes back to me
She wraps me in her arms like a thirsty tree
She doesn't care if I'm poor, sick and ailing
as long as my love is lyric, shining, thick and unfailing
Anne-Marie comes back to me
and wraps me in her arms like a thirsty tree
The world's gone right and I can finally breathe
as I soak up the light beside Anne-Marie
Then I wake up alive and refreshed
I feel drunk and I feel blessed
I feel the sweet heat of Anne-Marie's hands
and then I fall crashing from this reverie sham
There were no resurrections or cups of wrath
There was no transformation by a cleansing bath
We're still stumbling under a mass of crass and half-wit creeps
and the Cubs haven't won a single game in weeks
All we have of Joe Hill are his songs and his ashes
and Chief Joseph's still buried too far from his home
We still gorge the market monster no matter what it trashes
and the roar of its digestion is cutting me to the bone
And as long as I'm outside this dream
I'll never hear that magic melody
I'll never see winter turn into spring
I'll never see Anne-Marie come back to me
Anne-Marie won't come back to me
and wrap me in her arms like a thirsty tree
She'll never warm my heart again
and I'll always be cold, hungry and thin
Outside this dream I know Anne-Marie
will never ever come back to me
The world's gone wrong and so it must be
but the night's so long without Anne-Marie
I can't forget the first meeting of our lips
And I can't forget and I already miss...
our next kiss
These are funny and maybe frightening and always nice things to hear and say,
to read and write
And she is funny and maybe frightening - Celtic sin moon lost in the day,
found in the night
Waxing and waning and ever whitening - Green-eyed moon at which the wolves bay,
for which the wolves fight
Moons are mad, bad apples never ripening, bleached and bloodless but, come what may, surely a delight to bite
I can't forget where you haven't been
All that fresh flesh and untouched skin
waiting to begin
I won't sleep until you're back again
And I won't forget and I believe in
our first sin
Still a moon's only a mirror, a vamp vaguely brightening, sucking sun rays
to come out at night
Might be funny and may be frightening, but a lunar lady-god's got feet of clay
and moral short-sight
She wants to shine but she's hardly enlightening. Can she lead me to the day
with her brittle bone of light?
Will she wring my heart with her cold hold tightening? Will I howl and pray
for flight from her sight? For escape from her night
Oh come to me my flame for this waiting's wearing thin
I'm beauty without a beholder, I'm God without a hymn,
a star going dim
I can't forget the first meeting of our lips
And I can't forget and I already miss
our next kiss
And I can't forget where you haven't been
All that fresh flesh and untouched skin
waiting to begin
And I won't sleep until you're back again
I won't forget and I believe in
our first sin
Fabrice del Dongo était beau ; il faisait mal aux yeux
Même sa tante était rouge de honte face à son cher neveu
Oui la sublime Sanseverina, sa belle âme protectrice
tombait en proie aux pires émois devant son beau Fabrice :
Dire que je l'ai vu naître, cet homme grave et gracieux !
Se faire aimer par un tel délice serait bien trop délicieux !
Fabrice del Dongo était bête, un jeune noble exalté
Contre son sang bleu il part faire feu pour l'Empereur ranimé
Ce blanc-bec se jette dans la défaite française à Waterloo
De retour à Parme son sabre s'acharne sur un cabotin jaloux
A la porte de la prison ses yeux embrassent la fille du geôlier
et son cœur fondu à sa vue capitule face à cette pure beauté
Quelle pensée profonde sous son front elle avait !
Quel visage singulier ; elle saurait aimer
Clélia Conti était belle ; en elle les grâces naïves éclataient
et l'empreinte céleste de la noblesse de son âme le subjuguait
Même la sublime Sanseverina, pétillante d'esprit et de malice -
la femme la plus brillante du pays n'avait ainsi infecté Fabrice
Comme ses yeux si beaux me restaient attachés !
Quel regard de pitié ! Que de choses il exprimait !
Clélia Conti était sage ; elle se soumettait à son père
bien qu'il soit la définition même du vil courtisan vulgaire
Dire que ce Fabio Conti enfermait la clef de son cœur ;
La vie sur terre était pour elle un tissu de malheurs
O pouvoir absolu, quand cesseras-tu de peser
ainsi sur l'Italie ? De l'esprit libre tuer ?
Ô âmes vénales et basses ! Ô ignorance crasse !
Et moi la fille du geôlier : ô combien j'en suis lasse !
L'amour s'est fait à la prison, par regards et par signes
Dans l'intimité la plus parfaite, par leur alphabet intime
Des jours, des semaines, des mois ; contre les grilles et la loi
Il se sont liés sans mot prononcé de la plus profonde des fois
Combien je suis différent du petit libertin léger
qui entra ici il y neuf mois ! L'amour m'a changé
De ce paradis terrestre il ne voulait pas être exclu
Mais Fabrice était menacé ; l'arsenic était au menu
Clélia lui ordonna de se sauver pour sauver sa vie
Avec l'aide de sa tante et de sa future amante son évasion fut réussie
Mais Clélia avait honte d'avoir son père ainsi trahi
Les pires affres transperçaient l'âme de cette pieuse fille
Après une journée de larmes versées à la chapelle
elle se rendit à la citadelle pour faire ce qu'on attendait d'elle
Elle a cédé à l'ordre d'épouser Crescenzi le Marquis
dont l'or et la place à la cour son père avaient bassement séduit
Clélia Conti était bête donc il lui fallait obéir
Son père s'en est réjouit mais ensuite la fille a fait pire :
Car Clélia craignait Dieu au point de faire vœu
de ne plus poser ses beaux yeux sur son malheureux amoureux
Adieu Fabrice, j'ai fait ma prière,
en répandant les larmes les plus amères
Des remords les plus vifs, je suis pénétrée
mais le vœu est fait et jamais je ne vous reverrai
La brave dévote épouse donc une fortune pour son père
bien que ce chien ait tenté d'empoisonner l'élu de son cœur
Fabrice crache sa souffrance en prédicateur charismatique
Sa langue envoûte la foule allumée par le feu de son cantique
Mais leur amour était bien trop fort pour mourir avant la mort
Et avec des vers de Pétrarque il rembarque la belle à son bord :
"Non, vous ne me verrez jamais changer
Beaux yeux qui m'avez appris à aimer"
Entre ici, ami de mon cœur, je ne peux plus nous fuir
Je viens te dire que je t'aime Fabrice, veux-tu m'obéir ?
J'ai fait, tu le sais, vœu à la Madone de ne jamais plus te voir
Tes beaux traits me sont interdits mais tes baisers, dans le noir...
je peux les boire
Dans l'obscurité profonde, les amants se sont retrouvés
Sans bougies et sans soleil, les amants l'amour ont fait
Aux délices de la chair ils n'ont pas su résister
Et leurs errements comme leurs sottises sottement s'accumulaient :
Bien que Clélia fût la Marquise Crescenzi devenue
elle a fait un enfant avec l'amant qu'elle ne voyait plus
L'enfant mourut de la maladresse d'un affreux artifice
et Clélia le suivit de près, peu avant son cher Fabrice
Ils ne surent pas déjouer leur destin désastreux
Par manque d'esprit nos deux nantis ne surent pas jouer avec le feu
Au bout du compte nos deux anges avaient trop trahi les cieux
L'amour le plus parfait n'eut pas raison de leur dieu
Entre ici, ami de mon cœur, je ne peux plus nous fuir
Je viens te dire que je t'aime Fabrice, veux-tu m'obéir ?
J'ai fait, tu le sais, vœu à la Madone de ne jamais plus te voir
Ton beau visage m'est interdit mais tes baisers, au noir...
je peux les boire