 From Her To Eternity » Lyrics [+ Kuongeza +] |
1. _ Cabin Fever!
The captain's fore-arm like bunched-up rope
With a-n-i-t-a wrigglin' free on a skull'n'dagger
And a portrait of christ, nailed to an anchor
Etched into his upper...
O o o' cabin fever!
O o o' cabin fever!
Slams his fucken tin-dish down
Our captain, takes time to crush
Some bloo-bottles glowin in his gruel
With a lump in his throat, and lumpy mush
Thumbing a scrapbook stuck up with clag
And a morbid lump of love in his flags.
Done is the missing, now all that remain
Is to sail forever, upon the stain
Cabin fever! o o o' cabin fever!
The captain's free-hand is a cleaver
Which he fashions his beard, n' he rations his jerkey!
And carves his peg outa the finest mahagony!
Or was it ebony? etc...
Tallies up his loneliness, notch by notch
For the sea offers nuthin to hold or touch
Notch by notch, winter by winter
Notch x notch, winter x winter
Now his leg is whittled, right down to a splinter
O o cabin fever! o o o cabin fever!
O the rollin sea still rollin on!
She's everywhere! now that she's gone! gone! gone!
O cabin fever! o cabin fever!
Welcome to his table, beloved-unconscious
Raisin her host of hair from her crooks
And strugglin to summony one of her looks!
His arm now like coiled s-s-s-snakes
Whips all the bottles that he's drunken,
Like crystal - skittles about the cabin,
Of a ship they'd been sailing
Five years sunken... etc...
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2. _ Wings Off Flies
She loves me, she loves me not
She loves me, she loves me not
She loves me, she loves me not
We-e-ll, ah've spent seven days and seven nights
Tryin to get sunk in this brine
Don't turn on ya water-works
'cause ah got me a pair of water-wings, right?!
Insects suicide against the window,
And my heart goes out to those lil flies
There's a buzzin in my ear
But it's more of her black-mail, ham shakespeare + lies
Wings off flies, she loves me, she loves me not.
O o o o oh she loves me not!!
Lord, ah've discovered the recipe of heaven
Ya git solitude and ya mix with sanctuary and silence,
Then bake it!
Listen, i plead guilty to misanthropy
So hang me! ah'd appreciate it!!
Witness her gate-crash my tiny hell
With some obscene t |
3. _ Saint Huck
Born of the river,
Born of its ever-changing, never-changing murky water
Oh riverboat just rollin' along through the great great greasy city huck standing like a saint, upon its deck
If ya wanna catch a saint,
Then bait ya hook, let's take a walk...
'o come to me!, o come to me!' is what the dirty city
Say to huck... huck
Woah-woah, woah woah!
Woah-woah, woah woah!
Saint huck! huck!
Straight in the arms of the city goes huck,
Down the beckonin' streets of op-po-tunity
Whistling his favorite river-song...
And a bad-blind nigger at the piano
Buts a sinister blooo lilt into that sing-a-long
Huck senses somthing's wrong!
Sirens wail in the city,
And lil-ulysses turn to putty
And ol man river's got a bone to pick!
And our boy's hardly got a bone to suck!
He go, woah-woah, woah woah!
Woah-woah, woah woah!
Saint huck! huck!
The mo-o-o-on, its huge cycloptic eye
Watches the city streets contract
Twist and cripple and crack.
Saint huck goes on a dog's-leg now
Saint huck goes on a dog's-leg now
You know the story!
Ya wake up one morning and you find you're a thug
Blowing smoke rings in some dive
Ya fingers hot and itchin, ya cracking ya knuckles
Ya bull neck bristling...
Still huck he ventures on whistling,
And death reckons huckleberry's time is up,
O woah woah woah!
Saint huck!
O woah woah woah!
Saint huck! huck!
Yonder go huck, minus pocket-watch an' wallet gone
Skin shrink-wraps his skeleton
No wonder he gets thinner, what with his cold'n'skinny dinners!
Saint huck-a-saint elvis, saint huck-a-saint elvis
O you recall the song ya used to sing-a-long
Shifting the river-trade on that ol' steamer
Life is but a dream!
But ya traded in the mighty ol' man river
For the dirty ol' man latrine!
The brothel shift
The hustle'n'the bustle and the green-backs rustle
And all the sexy-cash
And the randy-cars
And the two dollar fucks
O o o ya outa luck, ya outa luck
Woah-woah-woah-woah
Saint huck! huck!
This is the track of deception
Leads to the heart of despair
Huck whistles like he just don't care
But in the pocket of the jacket is a chamber
Lead pellets sleeps in there
Wake up!
Now huck whistles and he kneels
And he lays down there
See ya huck, good luck
A smoke ring hovers above his head
And the rats and the dogs and the men all come
And put a bullet through his eye
And the drip and the drip and the drip of the mississippi cryin' and saint huck hears his own mississippi just rollin' by him woah-woah-woah-woah
Woah-woah-woah-woah
Saint huck! saint huck! saint huck!
Woah-woah-woah-woah
Woah-woah-woah-woah
Saint huck! saint huck! saint huck!
Woah-woah-woah-woah
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4. _ Avalanche
(leonard cohen)
I stepped into an avalanche
It covered up my soul
When i am not this hunchback that you see
I sleep beneath the golden hill
You who wish to conquer pain
You must learn to serve me well
You strike my side by accident
As you go down to your goal
This cripple here that you clothe and feed
Is neither starved nor cold
He does not ask for your company
Not at the centre, the centre of the world
I who am on a pedestal
You did not raise me there
Your laws do not compel me now
To kneel grotesque and bare
For i myself am the pedestal
For this ugly hump at which you stare
You who wish to conquer pain
You must learn what makes me kind
The crumbs of love that you offer me
Are the crumbs i've left behind
Your pain is no credential here
It's just a shadow of my wound
I have begun to ask for you
I who have no greed
I have begun to long for you
I who have no need
You say you've gone away from me
But i can feel you when you breathe
Do not dress in those rags for me
I know you are not poor
And do not love me quite so fiercely now
When you know that you are not sure
It is your turn, my beloved one
It is your flesh that i wear
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5. _ Well Of Misery
Along crags and sunless cracks i go
Up rib of rock, donw spine of stone
I dare not slumber where the night winds whistle
Lest her creeping-soul clutch this heart of thistle
O the same god that abandon'd her
Has in turn abandon'd me
And softenin' the turf with my tears
I dug a well of misery
And, in that well of misery
Hangs a bucket fulla sorrow
It swings slow an' achin' like a bell
Its toll is dead and hollow
Down that well lies the long-lost dress
Of my lil floatin girl
That muffles a tear that you let fall
All down that well of misery
Put ya shoulder to the handle, if ya dare
And hoist that bucket, hither
Lord, crank'n'hoist'n'hoist'n'crank
Till ya muscles waste'n'wither
O the same god that abandon'd her
Has in turn abandon'd me
Deep in the desert of despair
I wait at the well of misery
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6. _ A Box For Black Paul
Who'll build a box for black paul?
Ah'm enquirin on behalf of his soul
Ah'd be beholdin to ya all
For a lil information, just a little indication
Just who'll dig the hole?
When ya done ransackin' his room
Grabbin any damn thing that shines,
Throw the scraps down on the street
Like all his books and his notes.
All his books and his notes and
All the junk that he wrote
The whole fucken lot right up in smoke
Ain't there nuthin sacred anymore
Won't someone will build a box for black paul?
And their shootin off his guns
And their shootin off their mouths
Saying 'fuck with us ... and die!'
'fuck with us ... and die!'
(let's see that rat of fear go scuttle in their skulls)
'cover that eye! cover that frozen eye!'
Black-puppet, in a heap up against the stoning-wall
Black-puppet, go to sleep, ma-ma won't scold ya anymore
Armies of ants, wade up the lil red streams
They're headin for the mother-pool
O lord, it's cruel! o man it's hot! o man it's hot and
And some of them ants they just climb to the spot
Who threw the first stone at black paul?
'don't ask us', say the critics and the hacks
The pen-pushers and the quacks
'we jes cum to git dah facks!'
'we jes cum to git dah facks!'
Hey, hey, hey, hey...
Here is the hammer, that built the scaffold,
And built the box...
Here is the shovel, that dug the hole,
In this ground of rocks...
And here is the pile of stones!
And for each one planted, god only knows,
A blood-rose grown...
These are the true demon-flowers!
These are the true demon-flowers!
Stand back everyone! blood-black everyone!
Who'll build a box for black paul?
Who'll carry it up the hill?
'not i', said the widow, adjusting her veil
'ah will not drive the nail
Or cart his puppet-body home,
For ah done that one hundred times before,
Yeah! ah done that one hundred times or more,
And why should ah dress his wounds?
When he has wounded my dress, nightly,
Right across the floor'
Who'll build a box for black paul?
Who'll carry it up the hill?
Who'll bury it in the black-soil?
And from the woods and the thickets
Come the ghosts of his victims
'we love you!'
'ah love you!'
'and this will not hurt a bit,
Outta my eyes was your rise to full glory spring up from the corp(??) of life we'll go up, up, up, up, up into death
Up, up, up, up, inhale its breath
O yes, death favours those that favor death'
Here is the stone, and this is the inscription it bare:
'below lies black paul, under the upper...
But above and beyond the surface-flat-fall there.'
And all the angels come on down,
And all you men and women crowd around
And all the old widows weeping into their skirts
And all the lil gals and the lil boys
And the scribes with their pens poised
All the hullaballoo, all the norse
All the hullaballoo, all the noise
All the hullaballoo, all of the noise
Clears his throat of black blood
Singin black paul like a lonely boy...
We-e-e-ll, ah have cried one thousand tears
Ah've cried a thousand tears, its true
And the next stormy night you know,
That ah'm still cryin them for you
Well, ah had a gal she was so sweet,
Red dress, and long red hair hangin down
And heaven yes ain't heaven
Without that lil girl hangin around
Well, ya know ah've beenn a bad-man
And lord knows ah done some good things too
But ah confess, my soul will never rest
Until you've, until you've build
Until you've built a box for my gal, too.
My gal, too
My gal, too
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7. _ In The Ghetto
(m. davies)
As the snow flies
On a cold and grey chicago morn
A poor little baby child is born in the ghetto
And his mama cries
Cause there's one thing that she don't need
Is another little hungry mouth to feed in the ghetto
Oh people don't you understand
This child needs a helping hand
He's gonna grow to be an angry young man some day
Take a look at you and me
Are we that blind to see?
Do we simply turn our heads and look the other way?
And the world turns
And the hungry little boy with the runny nose
Plays in the streets as the cold wind blows in the ghetto
And his hunger burns
So he starts to roam the streets at night
And he learns how to steal and he learns how to fight in the ghetto
Then one night in desperation
The young man breaks away
He buys a gun and steals a car
He tries to run but he don't get far
And his mama cries
A crowd gathers round an angry young man
Face down in the street with a gun in his hand in the ghetto
Oh people don't you understand
This child needs a helping hand
He's gonna grow to be an angry young man some day
Take a look at you and me
Are we that blind to see?
Do we simply turn our heads and look the other way?
And as her young man dies
On a cold and grey chicago morn
Another little baby child is born in the ghetto
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8. _ From Her To Eternity
Ah wanna tell ya 'bout a girl
You know, she lives in room 29
Why... why... that's the one right up top a mine
Ah start to cry, ah start to cry
O ah hear her walkin'
Walkin' barefoot cross the floor-boards
All thru this lonesome night
Ah hear her crying too.
Hot-tears come splashin on down
Leaking thru the cracks,
Down upon my face, ah catch'em in my mouth!
Ah catch'em in my mouth!
Ah catch'em in my mouth!
Walk'n'cry walk'n'cry-y!!!
From her to eternity!
From her to eternity!
From her to eternity!
Ah read her diary on her sheets
Scrutinizin' every lil bit of dirt
Tore out a page'n'stufft it inside my shirt
Fled outa the window,
And shinning it down the vine
Outa her night-mare, and back into mine
Mine! o mine!
From her to eternity!
From her to eternity!
From her to eternity!
Cry! cry! cry!
She's wearing them bloo-stockens, ah bet!
And standin' like this with my ear to the ceiling
Listen, ah know it must sound absurd
But ah can hear the most melancholy sound
Ah ever heard!
Walk'n'cry! kneel'n'cry-y!
From her to eternity!
From her to eternity!
O tell me why? o tell me why?
Oh why? why? why?
O tell me why and don't tell me a lie!
Why the ceiling still shakes? shakes! shakes! shakes!
Why the fixtures turn to serpents and snakes?
This desire to possess her is a wound
And its naggin at me like a shrew
But, ah know, that to possess her
Is, therefore, not to desire her.
O o o then ya know, that lil girl would just have to go!
Go! go-o-o! from her to eternity!
From her to eternity! [repeat]
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9. _ The Moon Is In The Gutter
The moon is in the gutter
And the stars wash down the sink
I am the king of the blues
I scape the clay off my shoes
And wade down the gutter and the moon
The moon blinds my eye with opal cataracts
As i cut through the saw-mills and the stacks,
Leaping over the gully where i would one day take lucy
Then wash up my hands in the gutter and the moon.
Such a long way from home, just me and
The moon is in the gutter
All my plans are flushed down the drain
I wander lonely as a cloud
Over memories at her mound
Then lie down in the bitter gutter moon.
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Katika Albamu [+ Kuongeza +] |
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