Ladies and gentlemen. The Art of Noise.
Il pleure dans mon coeur
Comme il pleut sur la ville
And it’s weeping in my heart
Like it’s raining in the town
It rains
Imagine Debussy being born again
I’m waiting to see you
I’m here waiting
I’m waiting to see you
I’m waiting to feel you
I’m waiting to hear you
I’m here waiting
Now I touch the sky
?
I dream in colour
?
I dream in colour
How we live
How we live
How we live
And how we love
How we dream in colour
How we live
And how we love
Deeper, deeper, deeper
When I snap my fingers you will be in a different world
There’s something about the evening air in the summertime
Certain sounds that I need to hear, I wanna rhyme
My inner vision causes my metabolism to climb
And then I splatter my wisdom and the design
I leave time suspended and break gravity’s law
Metaforce to the world ain’t spinning no more
And from there I put sounds to hear, no order there (?)
So that we’re something y’all will compare to Baudelaire
(?)
Make me aerodynamic in the evening air…
Metaforce…
Pour le jour des Hyacinthies, il m’a donné une syrinx faite de roseaux bien taillés.
Imagine Debussy. Born just outside Paris on the twenty-second of August, eighteen-sixty-two.
Ladies and gentlemen, the Art of Noise.