T. Hakola- words/music, vocals, guitars, bass, organ...
other voice-Brisa Roché,
violin: Bénédicte Villain, drums: Z. Hochberg/T. Mladenovitch,
bandoneon: Pablo Gignoli, contact/info: www.theohakola.com
THE BURNING WOMAN SONG
Careful not to splatter her glassy black heels
She relieves herself between two automobiles
Hitching up her dress, crouching down low –
a move smoothed by practice... a sly urban sideshow
I say “You’re Kristen Scott Thomas!” and it’s love on first take
She says “No, I’m not, Miss, but I’ll embrace your mistake”
Then salting the vignette, going killer coquette,
she says “Give me a kiss, Miss... or a proper cigarette”
And with the war at the door and nothing more to lose,
we go foraging for food, for rapture, for booze
Death scenting the wind in the ungodly din
we go for pleasure without measure... and heart-rending sin
On the edge of Armageddon we do thus conspire
to shake up the Marais and send the mercury higher
How the strait streets redden in the glare of our desire
and all the world’s our ash tray as we... we play with fire
Blinded by the night we still find a way
to fall into each other on the rue Pavée
She says “We’ll never again see the light of day
so boy you’d best give in and begin foreplay
With the barbarians at the gate, it’s too late to escape
Love is all we can make in this end times dreamscape”
The cherry moon our motor, we fracked the hell out of our schist
and the well we did blow, the oil flow did feed our tryst
Yes, into my arms did this woman that night fall
and with bacchanal majesty, this woman gave her all
Drunk on war, drunk on flesh, we watched buildings go down one by one
And – SHALALALALA - made love ungently, did all we could do but come
to our senses and try for cover to run as the world began to combust
And - SHALALALALA - my lover was gone
and all I had left was handful of dust
With oceans brimming and oxygen thinning
and mad babies overrunning the planet
All you can say is let’s slip away, come on take me like bloody pomegranate
Gobbling every seed, all six hundred and thirteen
my end times lover sucked me in and spit me out
Pleased to break her fast, I did not dare her contravene
but I knew it wouldn’t last, once she started to shout
“There are no good brave causes left to die for anymore
Goddamn, I hate these times, God, I want a just war!”
She went on like that until her vocal cords went cold
and I saw where this was going and never felt so old...
other voice-Brisa Roché,
violin: Bénédicte Villain, drums: Z. Hochberg/T. Mladenovitch,
bandoneon: Pablo Gignoli, contact/info: www.theohakola.com
THE BURNING WOMAN SONG
Careful not to splatter her glassy black heels
She relieves herself between two automobiles
Hitching up her dress, crouching down low –
a move smoothed by practice... a sly urban sideshow
I say “You’re Kristen Scott Thomas!” and it’s love on first take
She says “No, I’m not, Miss, but I’ll embrace your mistake”
Then salting the vignette, going killer coquette,
she says “Give me a kiss, Miss... or a proper cigarette”
And with the war at the door and nothing more to lose,
we go foraging for food, for rapture, for booze
Death scenting the wind in the ungodly din
we go for pleasure without measure... and heart-rending sin
On the edge of Armageddon we do thus conspire
to shake up the Marais and send the mercury higher
How the strait streets redden in the glare of our desire
and all the world’s our ash tray as we... we play with fire
Blinded by the night we still find a way
to fall into each other on the rue Pavée
She says “We’ll never again see the light of day
so boy you’d best give in and begin foreplay
With the barbarians at the gate, it’s too late to escape
Love is all we can make in this end times dreamscape”
The cherry moon our motor, we fracked the hell out of our schist
and the well we did blow, the oil flow did feed our tryst
Yes, into my arms did this woman that night fall
and with bacchanal majesty, this woman gave her all
Drunk on war, drunk on flesh, we watched buildings go down one by one
And – SHALALALALA - made love ungently, did all we could do but come
to our senses and try for cover to run as the world began to combust
And - SHALALALALA - my lover was gone
and all I had left was handful of dust
With oceans brimming and oxygen thinning
and mad babies overrunning the planet
All you can say is let’s slip away, come on take me like bloody pomegranate
Gobbling every seed, all six hundred and thirteen
my end times lover sucked me in and spit me out
Pleased to break her fast, I did not dare her contravene
but I knew it wouldn’t last, once she started to shout
“There are no good brave causes left to die for anymore
Goddamn, I hate these times, God, I want a just war!”
She went on like that until her vocal cords went cold
and I saw where this was going and never felt so old...
Category
🎵
Music