#4 Les lyrics du jeudi /// Okkervil River

Okkervil River - Black (from Black Sheep Boy)

En attendant la sortie très prochaine de I Am Very Far et leur concert le mois prochain à Paris, petit retour sur l'un des textes les plus explicites, violents et émouvants de leur répertoire.

Un homme écoute la confession de sa petite amie, enlevée et violée par ce qui semble être son père ou son beau-père alors qu'elle était encore une enfant.

Haine, sentiment d'impuissance et révolte se côtoient dans son esprit alors qu'il propose, supplie même, de le laisser la venger.

Devant lui, complètement perdue, presque amorphe, la seule chose qu'elle semble capable de désirer, c'est l'oubli de son passé.

Partagés entre volonté de vengeance et désir d'oubli, les deux amants se perdent peu à peu.

I’m coming into your town.

Night is falling to the ground,

but I can still see where you loved yourself

before he tore it all down. April 12th,

with nobody else around; you were outside the house

(where’s your mother)

when he put you in the car,

when he took you down the road.

And I can still see where it was open,

the door he slammed closed.

It was open, the door he slammed closed.

It was open, long ago.

But don’t lose me now, don’t lose me now.

Though I know that I’m not useful anyhow,

just let me stick around while I tell you, like before,

you should say his name the way that he said yours.

But you don't want to say his name anymore.

Oh, Cynda Moore.

Baby daughter on the road,

you’re wrapped up warm in daddy’s coat.

And I can still see the cigarette’s heat.

I can’t believe all that you're telling me,

what is cutting like the smoke through your teeth as you’re telling me “forget it.”

But if I could tear his throat,

and spill his blood between my jaws,

and erase his name out for good, don’t you know that I would?

Don't you realize that I wouldn’t pause,

that I would cut him down with my claws

if I could have somehow never let that happen?

Or I’d call, some black midnight,

fuck up his new life where they don’t know what he did,

tell his brand-new wife and his second kid.

Though I tell you, like before,

that you should wreck his life the way that he wrecked yours,

you want no part of his life anymore.

Oh Cynda Moore.

don’t lose me now, let me help you out.

Though I know that I can’t help anyhow,

when I watch you I’m proud.

When I tell you twice before

that you should wreck his life the way that he wrecked yours,

you want no part of his life anymore.

oh Cyna Moore.

And it’ll never be the way it was before,

but I wish that you would let me through that door.

Let me through that door.