I’m quite taken with her at the moment. I wasn’t able to find the lyrics for this song, so I thought I’d release them into the ether here. She gets a little carried away occasionally and I can’t make it out, so any comments are welcome. It’s about Aids apparently.
You, who speak of crowd control, of karma, of the punishment of God. Do you feel the cages they are filled in, Kentucky, Tennessee and Texas, while they’re given ten to forty years to find a cure? Do you pray each evening out of horror or of fear to the savage God of bloody hand commands you now to die alone?
Let’s not chat about despair, Let’s not chat about despair
Do you taste the presence of the living dead while the skeleton beneath your open window waves with arms outstretched? Do you spend each night in waiting for the devil so the angel tries to **** you in your sleep? Do you wait for miracles in small hotels with ****, all for a ticket to the house of death in Amsterdam.
Let’s not chat about despair, Let’s not chat about despair
Do you wait in prison for the dreadful day the office of the butcher comes to carry you away? Do you wait for saviours or the paradise to come in laundry rooms in toilets, or in cadillacs. Are you crucified beneath the life machines, with a shank inside your neck and a head which blossoms like a basketball?
Let’s not chat about despair
Do you tremble at the timid steps of crying, smiling faces of who, in mourning, now have come to pay their last respects. In Kentucky, **** around the bed to celebrate the death of Billy Smith the queer, whose mother still must hide her face in fear.
You who mix the words of torture, suicide and death with scotch and soda at the bar. We all real decent people aren’t we; but there’s no time left for talk.
Let’s not chat about despair, Let’s not chat about despair, Let’s not chat about despair
Please. Don’t chat about despair.
H is a 25 y/o New Zealand born ex-pat, pursuing a PhD in Artificial Intelligence at Imperial College in London
