| Regina Spektor – December Lyrics | 18 years ago |
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I didn't read all of the comments, so someone might have already said this, but just because the birth of christ is celebrated (for some) on Dec 25, doesn't mean he was born on that day. Check your bible, or this website http://users.aristotle.net/~bhuie/birthday.htm Jesus was born during the feast of Tabernacles, or in September |
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| Regina Spektor – Ghost of Corporate Future Lyrics | 18 years ago |
| Remember Scrooge in that christmas movie, and he is visited by the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present and Future? And how each one wants Scrooge to learn a lesson about his effect on people in his life? They give him advice and want him to become a better person. Funnily enough, that's what I think of when I hear this song. That the Ghost of Corporate Future is warning us of what is and isn't important in our lives. The Ghost wants to remind us of how to become better people and to pay attention to life. | |
| Regina Spektor – Carbon Monoxide Lyrics | 18 years ago |
| Also I forgot, notice the whole foot, shoe, sock imagery that is similar between Regina's song and Plath's poem | |
| Regina Spektor – Carbon Monoxide Lyrics | 18 years ago |
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I actually have a different reaction to this song. When I first heard it I thought of Sylvia Plath's poem "Daddy" Sylvia Plath killed herself at age 30, by natural gas (Carbon Monoxide) (so that fits with the idea of the song being about suicide). Also the Plath's poem mentions being jewish and there are lines that refer to the Holocaust. The poem itself is about Plath's father, who died when she was young and her feelings towards him (she at times sees him as a Vampire) and also apparently (from what i've read elsewhere) the male character in the poem changes from her father to her husband who cheated on her. Notice the repetition of the word "Daddy" which also appears in Regina's song. I simply see Regina's song as a tribute to Sylvia Plath and what she went to. Plath's poem came from the website http://www.internal.org/view_poem.phtml?poemID=356 Daddy by: Sylvia Plath You do not do, you do not do Any more, black shoe In which I have lived like a foot For thirty years, poor and white, Barely daring to breathe or Achoo. Daddy, I have had to kill you. You died before I had time-- Marble-heavy, a bag full of God, Ghastly statue with one gray toe Big as a Frisco seal And a head in the freakish Atlantic Where it pours bean green over blue In the waters off beautiful Nauset. I used to pray to recover you. Ach, du. In the German tongue, in the Polish town Scraped flat by the roller Of wars, wars, wars. But the name of the town is common. My Polack friend Says there are a dozen or two. So I never could tell where you Put your foot, your root, I never could talk to you. The tongue stuck in my jaw. It stuck in a barb wire snare. Ich, ich, ich, ich, I could hardly speak. I thought every German was you. And the language obscene An engine, an engine Chuffing me off like a Jew. A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen. I began to talk like a Jew. I think I may well be a Jew. The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of Vienna Are not very pure or true. With my gipsy ancestress and my weird luck And my Taroc pack and my Taroc pack I may be a bit of a Jew. I have always been scared of you, With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo. And your neat mustache And your Aryan eye, bright blue. Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You-- Not God but a swastika So black no sky could squeak through. Every woman adores a Fascist, The boot in the face, the brute Brute heart of a brute like you. You stand at the blackboard, daddy, In the picture I have of you, A cleft in your chin instead of your foot But no less a devil for that, no not Any less the black man who Bit my pretty red heart in two. I was ten when they buried you. At twenty I tried to die And get back, back, back to you. I thought even the bones would do. But they pulled me out of the sack, And they stuck me together with glue. And then I knew what to do. I made a model of you, A man in black with a Meinkampf look And a love of the rack and the screw. And I said I do, I do. So daddy, I'm finally through. The black telephone's off at the root, The voices just can't worm through. If I've killed one man, I've killed two-- The vampire who said he was you And drank my blood for a year, Seven years, if you want to know. Daddy, you can lie back now. There's a stake in your fat black heart And the villagers never liked you. They are dancing and stamping on you. They always knew it was you. Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I'm through |
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