Nick Cave
Australian musician, songwriter, poet, author and actor.
The sound is beautiful, it's perfect!
The sound of her young legs in stockings,
The rhythm of her walk, it's beautiful!
Just let it twist, let it break,
Let it buckle, let it bend,
I want to hear the noise of my Zoo-Music Girl.
O you recall the song ya used to sing-a-long,
Shifting the river-trade on that ol' steamer,
Life is but a dream!
My social conscience is fairly limited in a lot of ways; there's not much I'm angry about that doesn't affect me quite directly. But the prison system- not particularly capital punishment- but the penal system as it is, and the whole apparatus of judgement, people deciding on other people's fates... that does irritate, and upset me quite a lot. What angers me about the system goes beyond the unreliability of "proof"... it's that the way criminals are dealt with has nothing to do with rehabilitation and readjusting people who've stepped outside society's norms. The same goes for mental institutions and so forth. But it's also the very idea of someone being judged "criminal" or "insane" because they're unable to fit into what a corrupt society considers "social" or "sociable".
My baby is alright,
She doesn't mind a bit of dirt,
She says 'Horror vampire bat bite, sex vampire, how I wish those bats would bite',
Woooooah! Bite! Bite! Release the bats!
Ah've cried one thousand tears, it's true.
Tupelo-o-o! Hey, Tupelo! You will reap just what you sow.
My body is a monster driven insane,
My heart is a fish toasted in flames.
Blind Lemon Jefferson is a-comin',
Tap tap tappin', with his cane.
Along crags and sunless cracks I go,
Up rib of rock, down spine of stone,
I dare not slumber where the right winds whistle,
Lest her creeping-soul clutch this heart of thistle.
O no don't go O no O slow down Joe!
The righteous path is straight as an arrow,
Take a walk and you'll find it's too narrow,
Too narrow for the likes of me.
Oh, a passing, skeptical kind of interest. I'm a hammer-and-nails kind of guy.
I hear stories from the chamber,
How Christ was born into a manger,
And like some ragged stranger died up on the cross,
And might I say it seems to fitting in its way,
He was a carpenter by trade,
Or at least that's what I'm told.
I am the black crow king,
Keeper of the forgotten corn,
The King!
The spears of the bright sun, all brave with its conquest,
Did hover unearthly, in banners of fire.
I knelt in the garden, awash with the dawning,
And a voice came so brightly, I covered my eyes.
From the words and the thickets,
Come the ghosts of his victims,
'We love you!'
'Ah love you!'
This will not hurt a bit.
Let there be no sadness, no sorrow,
Let there be no road too narrow,
There'll be a new day, and it's today,
For all of us.
My oh My,what a wretched Life.
I was born on the day that my poor mama died.
I was cut from Her belly with a stanley knife.
My daddy did a jig with the drunk midwife
And the mercy seat is melting,
And I think my blood is boiling,
And in a way I'm spoiling,
All the fun with all this truth and consequence.
An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth,
And anyway I told the truth,
And I'm not afraid to die.
'O come to me!, O come to me!' is what the dirty city say to Huck.
Love is a state that I would like to exist in continuously.