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Charlotte Gainsbourg
Charlotte Gainsbourg


Информация
Настоящее имя Charlotte Lucy Gainsbourg
Дата рождения 21 июля 1971 г.
Место рождения London, UK
Откуда Paris, France
Жанры Pop
Годы 1986—н.в.
Лейблы Atlantic Records
Because Music
Phonogram Records
Vice Recordings



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Альбом Charlotte Gainsbourg


IRM (07.12.2009)
07.12.2009
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Looking Glass Blues (bonus track)
. . .


Hold my head up
Right foot back
Take my hands down
Shake my back
Pull my strings
And cut my rope
Rattle my frame
And shatter my ghost
And if I can't get back in line
They're gonna break me down
Till the broad day light comes through

Breathe out, come alive
Give me a reason to feel

Take my eyes and
Paint my bones
Drill my brain
All full of holes
And patch it up before it leaks
These memories come two by three
And if I catch the master's hands
I'm gonna spend my days
On a discount revelry

Breathe out, come alive
Give me a reason to feel

. . .


Take a picture what's inside
Ghost imaging my mind
Neural pattern like a spider
Capillary to the center
Hold still and press the button
Looking through the glass onion
Following the x-ray eyes
From the cortex to medulla

Analyze EKG
Can you see a memory?
Register all my fear
On a flowchart disappear
Leave my head demagnetized
Tell me where the trauma lies
In the scan a pathogen
Or the shadow of my sin

. . .


Quand on est mort c'est qu'on est mort
Quand on ne rit plus c'est qu'on ne vit plus
Quand j'aurai coupé la ficelle
Mettez-moi dans une poubelle

Laissez-moi faisander un mois
Et de là jetez-moi au chat
Qu'il refuse ma rate et mon foie
Mais choisissez l'heure pour qu'il me mange le coeur

Que je reste encore avec vous
Sur vos épaules et vos genoux
Que je sois puisqu'il faut qu'on existe
Le chat du café des artistes

Et si le pain vient à manquer
Je serai là et n'hésitez pas
Brisez-moi les pattes et le cou
Et puis mangez-moi à même le chat

Ce ne sera pas la première fois
Qu'on aura mangé un artiste

Quand on est mort c'est qu'on est mort
Quand on ne rit plus, c'est qu'on ne vit plus
Quand j'aurai coupé la ficelle
Mettez-moi dans une poubelle

Et puis ils m'ont oublié là
Là là là là là là là là
Comme ils ont oublié le chat
Comme ils oublieront ma tête et mes chansons

Ce ne sera pas la dernière fois
Que l'on oubliera un artiste

Quand on est mort c'est qu'on est mort
Quand on ne rit plus, c'est qu'on ne vit plus
Quand j'aurai coupé la ficelle
Mettez-moi dans une poubelle

Et puis ils m'ont oublié là
Là là là là là là là là
Là là là là là là là là

. . .


Help me to see what it's all coming to
Crumbs on the table and mud on these shoes
Treading so long I can't see where we've been
Tracks on the trail and nails digging in

Who's to say it's all for the best in the end

Some hands will rob you and some hands will beg
Some say they'll stay till the last dying day
But if actions can't speak
And words cannot do
What ten thousand armies
Can't even fight through

Who's to say it's all for the best in the end

. . .


She's sliding, she's sliding
Down into the dregs of the world
She's fighting, she's fighting
The urge to make sand out of pearls

Heaven can wait and hell's too far to go
Somewhere between what you need and what you know
And they're trying to drive that escalator into the ground

She's hiding , she's hiding
On a battleship of baggage and bones
There's thunder, there's lightening
And an avalanche of faces you know

Heaven can wait and hell's too far to go
Somewhere between what you need and what you know
And they're trying to drive that escalator into the ground

You left your credentials in a greyhound station
With a first aid kit and a flash light
Going to a desert unknown

Heaven can wait and hell's too far to go
Somewhere between what you need and what you know
And they're trying to drive that escalator into the ground

. . .


If I had my way
I'd cross the desert to the sea
Learn to speak in tongues something
That makes sense to you and to me

I'd like to unplug the phone
Sending messages with a mirror
Stand on the old plateau
With a satellite dish and Geronimo's ghost

Down in the Rio Del Sol
I sunk my suitcase alone
Filled up the Amazon
With snakes and vines and ropes for my clothes

Me and Jane Doe and Rousseau
We've got nowhere to go
Walking through cactus and stones
With our bare hands mining for gold

Down in the city so cold
Shining like razors in the sun
You can go there anytime that you like
And try to find happiness from a gun

. . .


You could have it all
You could pawn it off
You could learn to crawl
Where you used to walk

And I'm only burning vanities

You could tell a tale
You could sell it off
You could find a grail
Made of cinder block

And I'm only burning vanities

. . .


I walk in a line
I see where I'm going
I turn inside out
The days that I've known
I face to myself
And give up the ghost
I turn in my mind
What time already knows

In the time of the assassins
They say hallelujah
It doesn't take a miracle to raise a
Heart from the dead

I sift through the ash
I look for a sign
I open the wound
That keeps me in line
The shoulder that turns
The flame that goes out
The chapter I close
There's no point to it now

In the time of the assassins
They say hallelujah
It doesn't take a miracle to raise a
Heart from the dead

And can something change
But still feel the same
The beginning's the end
I start all over again

In the time of the assassins
They say hallelujah
It doesn't take a miracle to raise a
Heart from the dead

. . .


Train train
Come and gone
My rum coco
My cold empty
Shake shake
Sugaree
Shoo shoo fly
Don't come back again
X X the eyes
C. C. rider riding
From the morning tide
To the far horizon
Sic sic the wolves
And hope it don't get ugly
Your trick pony, he don't know me
He don't know me at all
 
Knock knock
Go away
Pull the trigger
And see your shadow laughing
Transatlantic
There's no one there
Its no cold comfort
With your conscience calling
X X the eyes
C. C. rider riding
From the morning tide
To the far horizon
Sic sic the wolves
And hope it don't get ugly
Your trick pony, he don't know me
He don't know me at all

. . .


Crooked Man
Down a crooked mile
Crooked backbone
Crossed out smile
Crooked Cat
Crooked Mouse
We live together in a crooked little house

We're all fine
We're all fine
We fit together like worms on a line
We're so good
We're so nice
We stick together like dirty horse flies

Crooked eyes
Crooked tooth
Crooked mind
Bending back the truth
Crooked road
On a crooked town
Looking down at the crumbs on the ground

We're all fine
We're all fine
We fit together like nickels on a dime
We're so good
We're so nice
We talk the mumbo jumbo Greenwich mean time

. . .


Red river keep on rolling down
It's been a longtime since I let my hair hang down
I'll take my time before I go under the ground
Oh Dandelion tell me what you're thinking now

Shape I'm in, I better get back home soon
I got one eye on the road and one eye on the big black moon
Dandelion won't you tell me what to do

Ironsides rusting in the railroad rain
Now I found out what the captain of the morning was saying
Dandelion better hope your mother's praying

Dumb luck is the only luck I ever knew
I'd make a wish but I don't think it ever come true
Dandelion I guess I leave it up to you

Belle Starr, she doesn't have any shoes
She walks crooked and paints her eyelids blue
Dandelion I wanna go there too

. . .


Voyage au bout de la nuit
Voyage au bout de la nuit
Voyage au bout de la nuit

Plumes sauvages
Le mirage
Kérozène
Au gris gris
Rattle snake
Cadillac
Race humaine
Espace vie

Voyage au bout de la nuit

We could go au bout du monde
Till the end of the night
We could go au bout du monde
Till the end of the night
Voyage au bout de la nuit
We could go
Journey till the end of the night

Guitare noire
Lame rasoire
Porte bonheur
Accroche coeur
Vagabond
Bottle blond
Cicatrice
Sacrifice

Voyage au bout de la nuit

We could go au bout du monde
Till the end of the night
We could go au bout du monde
Till the end of the night
Voyage au bout de la nuit
We could go
Journey till the end of the night
Voyage au bout de la nuit

. . .


I collect many things
And keep them all close to me
To the ceiling from the floor
I'm tripping on them constantly

Pixelated faces play
On a blown out TV screen
Footage from a camera
These days I'm fast forwarding

I see a pattern start to form
Over time it's surfacing
Like a face I recognize
It never says anything

I add up all these moments
In a long narrow ledger
Decimals of pain
Integers of pleasure
The sum of all these parts
I don't know how to measure
They keep on adding up
They just keep on adding up

The collector
La collectionneuse

J'ai cueilli ce brin de bruyère
L'automne est morte souviens-t'en
Nous ne nous verrons plus sur terre
Odeur du temps Brin de bruyère
Et souviens toi que j'attends (1)

J'ai eu le courage de regarder en arrière
Le cadavre de mes jours (1)

Que lentement passent les heures
Comme passe un enterrement
Tu pleureras l'heure ou tu pleures
Qui passera trop vitement
Comme passent toutes les heures (1)

Et toi mon coeur pourquoi bats-tu
Comme un guetteur mélancolique
J'observe la nuit et la mort (2)

Vienne la nuit sonne l'heure
Les jours s'en vont je demeure (1)

***

(1) Extracts from Guillaume Apollinaire "Alcools" poem collection.
(2) Extract from Guillaume Apollinaire "Le Guetteur Mélancolique" poem collection.

. . .


Think I'd like to climb down in a hole
Down in the bottom of the world below
Twist myself back out of sight
Looking glass says have a look Inside

Drink a little bottle and I disappear
Smaller I grow, smaller all my fears
I can fit inside the heart of anywhere
Looking glass blues and I don't care

Time ticks backwards and the day is null
Borrowing dreams from a burying ground
Stranded on a chest board, I can't move
And I don't even want to sing these backwards blues
Backwards blues
Backwards blues

What can you see through a looking glass
The opposite of everything that you can't have
You can't have
Good or bad

I see what exists outside myself
The absence of something that I know too well
Now the fear is reaching like a hand in a glove
The ugliest thing inside a heart you can think of

I walk through a key hole big as the sun
Past all meanings and the things we've done
Counterfeit soul with an infant brain
Cause that's how we gonna get along today

. . .


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