Language: Dutch
It's time, I've determined, for another trilogy. This one will be the "baby" trilogy. Not 'cause I'm having a baby. Just because.
This song is not my favorite Rufus Wainwright by a long shot -- to me, the pacing feels all wrong. It's like it takes him considerably longer to sing the song than the song deserves. But whatever. It's fine.
-Jessi
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
This way nothing is clear, so nothing is smooth.
Nothing is pure (such
as my baby).
I dreamed each of my days all in one night of life, as if
I were my own baby.
My days were intertwined with darkness up to
your silver eyes,
my baby. Who's on my tail?
And since then, I can't see directly
(funnily?), and my false
problems smile then. Which I know since I
have one clean eye (that only sees by itself), but
if you bring along your needles,
then I'll bring my sharpened pencils,
and I'll draw my baby
a funnier tragedy.
Question the children this way: "Players,
will we rent the living room of Ms. Omhoog
and dance with
my baby?"
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