Après moi, le déluge.


Your lulliby is broken,
it stutters and stalls, disrupted.
It's just the consequence of sounds,
you say, but I don't believe you.

You're a man with a thousand faces
and this time around
I might just take my pound of flesh
and head off to another town.

I want to sing -
maybe I'll sing for everyone but you.
Après moi, le déluge.

Maybe I'd enjoy a summer in the city,
meet a genius next door.
We'll breathe each other
like carbon monoxide -

like that time you and i
slept in the flowers
in the field below the mountains,
when you laughed and called me Pavlov's daughter.

I want to sing -
maybe I'll sing for anyone but you.
Après moi, le déluge.

Come on, let's be honest.
Your blue lips, tart kiss -
could keep me breathing,
keep me in this love affair.

You swore you'd stay
beneath this small town moon;
sitting in the back of a truck
you said I was prettier than sunshine.

I want to sing -
I'll never sing for anyone but you.
Après moi, le déluge.

Oh Marcello, don't leave me
with these 2.99 cent blues.
You've always been
the hero of [this] story.

One more time -
with feeling.
Après moi, le déluge.

Songs by Regina Spektor :)

The End

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