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She heard the story of this man. They say he’s evil
he’s the Antichrist
He’s the devil, he is mad This is him Marquis de Sade
She was sad, she was sad, now she knows what life’s about she was sad, now she’s wet
because she met Marquis de Sade
Her father was a priest & he swears I tell you this And he’s drunk all day & night
And he beats his little girl
Yes, he does I tell you sir
And he makes her do some things
much more lustful than you think
Pain & suffer through religion
the cradles of despotism
She was sad, she was sad, now she knows what life’s about she was sad, now she’s wet
because she met Marquis de Sade
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"Kiki de Montparnasse"
04:04
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She’s dancing in the streets, screaming at her enemies, she’s the dancer and the singer of the cabaret
cursing while she’s high, drunk of all the alcohol, dazzling with her beauty all the men in town,
with strange hats and pearls, bijou and under chandeliers
I’m going down, down town to find the queen of Montparnasse
Look at her breasts
look in her eyes
she is the queen of Montparnasse
Look at her legs, don’t you touch the ass
she is Kiki de Montparnasse
Since she was 13 she worked in a shoe factory, and by her 14 she lied in the bed of Kisling –Cocteau - Deren –Utrijo - fuzita and in the beds of many-many others.
She was the last great muse of Paris.
She used to say: “the only thing i need is an onion, some bread, a bottle of red wine, and i will always find somebody to offer me that.”
She sings for hookers for old housewives, for wine and dollars for gold and art she dances for the rich, prays for the poor is she angel?
“hey man, I’m no angel, I am , a Woman”
Look at her breasts
look in her eyes
she is the queen of Montparnasse Look at her legs, don’t you touch the ass she is Kiki de Montparnasse
I am going down. Down. Down. Down.
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Suzanne is walking at the streets of Montmartre the poets,
the writers are staring aroused
Suzanne, the painters the birds and the sun all gazing excited the muse of the world
No one could take away their eyes from her eyes,
as she was passing by with her red smile and her evening dress
No one could take away their eyes from Suzanne.
La muse est assise, nue à moitié sur la chaise longue.
La brise agite le feuillage en dehors de la fenêtre / il sent le jasmin et les couleurs.
Le peintre la saisit par le cou, la pousse contre le mur, il devient violent et blasphémateur, ses cris de plaisir font écho dans la ville de Paris.
Son souffle devient plus rapide - son visage est rayonnant de lumiere. Elle mord les lèvres.
Le peintre brise le lit, il devient immoral, athée/ impie. Elle est perdue dans son plaisir, dans son orgasme, elle hurle, et ses sons pénètrent les toits de la ville de la lumière.
No one could take away their eyes from Suzanne.
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"Und nun, meine sehr verehrten Damen und Herren, dies ist ein Lied für Anita Berber"
Cocaine – opium – morphine
Chloroform mixed with ether
Absinthe - alcohol – hashish
Hysteria mixed with greed
There’s a girl, with dark cold eyes & short bright red hair> Anita,
she’s the fire in the streets of Berlin
Sexual desire, she’s a movie star in soft porn naked films.
The fame, the fame, the alcohol, the praise
“What does the shadow wants, cocaine, you animals”
So long Anita, the lovers say goodbye,
the rivers of gold are praying for your soul
Since you’ve tasted her
your life will never be the same once you’ve slept with her
you will never fly up to heaven
Strange flowers, painted people, Otto Dix has painted you wearing your morphine dress
Perverts, prostitutes, syphilis,
drag queens & lesbians.
She’s dead, dead & she knows it, disease is killing her, She’s dead Dead
Dead?
So long Anita, the lovers say goodbye,
the rivers of gold are praying for your soul
"Hey, Jungs und Mädels! Lasst uns alle zusammen ein Requiem singen. Ein Requiem für Anita Berber!"
Cocaine - opium - morphine She’s Anita Berber
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5. |
"Letters of Oscar"
02:58
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Lord oh my lord you broke my heart tonight
I threw the pearls of my soul in a cup of wine and I need nothing more than sympathy
my purest lies I’ve happily forsworn
If prison & dishonour be my destiny
your love will make me capable of bearing it You broke my heart I fear I have to leave
I have no money & a heart of lead
I’m tired of breathing I’m lost without your love
save me I’m dying, save me my Lord.
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As Vincent Van Gogh said : “this sadness will last forever”
My great lady of sorrow My great lady of sorrow
Her breasts are melting from the years,
she’s rotting alone, rotting by syphilis ,
no starry sky can reach her beauty
her hair is brighter than the sunflowers
My great lady of sorrow
My great lady of sorrow
She dances a dance that no one can stand
she smells as the colours of an old rotten wall
My great lady of sorrow
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“Questa e` la storia del pittore Amedeo Modigliani e la sua musa Jeanne Hebuterne”
She’s standing still while I paint her, with her sorrowful eyes, her colourful smile
She prays for me while I am drinking
waiting and waiting alone in the night
“Quando conoscrero` la tua anima, dipingero` I tuoi occhi”
Jeanne oh my Jeanne i am crazy I’m wild, when i know your soul i will paint your eyes.
In the mud in the snow i am drinking to death i am painting her face i am painting her sad like a ghost from the past, like an African mask
“Quando conoscrero` la tua anima, dipingero` I tuoi occhi”
Jeanne oh my Jeanne I’m crazy I’m wild, when i know your soul
i will paint your eyes.
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Five young ladies standing nude
dark violent women with the strangest mood
No tits no breasts, broken noses huge legs big hands
Bodies disarmed empty eyes masks ’n faces staring at you
a season in Hell – a journey in Spain, lights are torn, songs are dead.
The ladies of Avignon were born, Revolution to the world.
-Forever my ladies I’ll be destroying you.
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In visions of the dark night
I have dreamed of joy departed But a waking dream of life and light
Hath left me broken-hearted.
Ah! what is not a dream by day To him whose eyes are cast
On things around him with a ray Turned back upon the past?
That holy dream that holy dream
While all the world were chiding, Hath cheered me as a lovely beam
A lonely spirit guiding.
What though that light, thro' storm and night, So trembled from afar
What could there be more purely bright
In Truth's day-star?
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11. |
"Without her"
03:12
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What of her glass without her? The blank gray
There where the pool is blind of the moon’s face.
Her dress without her? The tossed empty space
Of cloud-rack whence the moon has passed away.
Her paths without her? Day’s appointed sway
Usurped by desolate night. Her pillowed place
Without her? Tears, ah me! for love’s good grace,
And cold forgetfulness of night or day.
What of the heart without her? Nay, poor heart,
Of thee what word remains ere speech be still?
A wayfarer by barren ways and chill,
Steep ways and weary, without her thou art,
Where the long cloud, the long wood’s counterpart,
Sheds doubled darkness up the labouring hill.
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13. |
Hidden Track
00:43
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Opera Chaotique Athens, Greece
DIONYSIAN CABARET
The Greek duo inspired by the culture of their ancestors, creates a post – drama
act that includes a powerful dose of Tragedy, even more Comedy, mixed with modern styles:
a Dionysian Cabaret.
PRESS :
"We are proud to present something actually original."
BCN MES , Spain
"The Love Song is one of the greatest songs of our time"
Gothic Magazine, Germany
... more
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