Tuesday, January 02, 2007
Direct Dirty Conversation to Me (Poison)
Really only the chorus of this song ("The baby of reason will be governing us, etc.") worked out. But I really like it.
As I get older, I find I have fewer and fewer opportunities to swear, and when I do, I'm more likely to use euphemisms of some kind, like the Battlestar-Galactica-inspired "frakkin'." It's not like I'm holding back for the kids' sakes -- we don't have any. And it's not like I'm suddenly more concerned that people think I'm uncouth. I just don't have as many moments during the day when I feel like it.
What do you suppose that's about, then? Maybe some kind of peer-group thing?
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
You don't know me.
I look to you in order to see.
Well, you act expensive; therefore it is you,
but I never love you,
and I know your loves: they are too
expensive. I want you,
I gotta have you,
oh, yes, I'll make you.
You know, I never
remain. I'm never late, which is always . . .
You know that I can await difficulty
in order to see you,
and I know you cannot await it
in order to see me too. In expectation,
I gotta contact you.
The baby of reason will be
governing us, in
the Ford of an old person.
After, the bushes
will be screaming for more.
Lock the basement down from
the door. We will converse
about the baby, and the dirty cellar.
You know I call you,
I call you on the telephone.
I only hope that your domestic
can hear you. Therefore, I
speak those words, when you gotta
whisper to me so softly,
and I hear you.
C.C.: they select that guitar; they speak up to me.