Art Rimbaud Project: Lyrics

Stolen Heart (Pure)
Vocals: Tony Caulfield | Sound: Michael Korotschenko]

[Scroll down for an English translation of Arthur Rimbaud's original poem.]

My sad heart slavers at the poop,
Heart slathered in tobacco-spit:
They spew their juice in spurts of soup,
My sad heart slobbers at the poop,
Under the jeering of the troop
While they are laughing at it,
My sad heart's drooling at the poop,
My heart swamped in tobacco-spit.

Fishy-phallic and soldier blue
Their dirty jokes debauch it!
The rudder's marked with frescoes, too,
Fishy-phallic and soldier blue.
Abracadabra-like billows
O take my heart and wash it!
Fishy-phallic and soldier blue
Their dirty jokes debauch it!

When they have spent their wad of quid,
O stolen heart, how will I act?
They'll belch their booze in Bacchic fits
When they've exhausted all their quid:
My queasy gut will churn with it,
If my heart is leveled flat:
When they have spent their wad of quid,
O stolen heart, how will I act?

Fishy-phallic and soldier blue
Their dirty jokes debauch it!
The rudder's marked with frescoes, too,
Fishy-phallic and soldier blue.
Abracadabra-like billows
O take my heart and wash it!
Fishy-phallic and soldier blue
Their dirty jokes debauch it!

Fishy-phallic and soldier blue
Their dirty jokes debauch it!

Fishy-phallic and soldier blue
Their dirty jokes debauch it!


The Stolen Heart

My sad heart slavers at the poop,
Heart slathered in tobacco-spit:
They spew their juice in spurts of soup,
My sad heart slobbers at the poop,
Under the jeering of the troop
While they burst out laughing at it,
My sad heart's drooling at the poop,
My heart swamped in tobacco-spit.

Fishy-phallic and soldier blue
Their dirty jokes debauch it!
The rudder's marked with frescoes too,
Fishy-phallic and soldier blue.
Abracadabra-like billows
O take my heart and wash it!
Fishy-phallic and soldier blue
Their dirty jokes debauch it!

When they have spent their wad of quid,
O stolen heart, how will I act?
They'll belch their booze in Bacchic fits
When they've exhausted all their quid:
My queasy gut will churn with it,
I, if my heart is leveled flat:
When they have spent their wad of quid,
O stolen heart, how will I act?


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