Wednesday 14 October 2009

I heard this song today, standing in the traffic jam, rain pouring down on my windscreen and on me, as I got off at the traffic lights to fix the wing mirror, which had bent back when I drove into the hedge.
It's one of my favourite song-stories, devoid of melodramatic twists. Its force is in the diverse content put together, uttered at one pitch, as if no part was more important than the other. That's why the drama is there, it's in all that has not been spoken about.


Private Dancer
Well the men come in these places
And the men are all the same
You don't look at their faces
And you don't ask their names

You don't think of them as human
You don't think of them at all
You keep your mind on the money
Keeping your eyes on the wall

I'm your private dancer
A dancer for money
I'll do what you want me to do
I'm your private dancer
A dancer money
Any old music will do

I wanna make a million dollars
I wanna live out by the sea
Have a husband and some children
Yeah I guess I want a family

All the men come in these places
And the men are all the same
You don't look at their faces
And you don't ask their names

Deutschmarks or dollars
American express will nicely thank you
Let me loosen up your collar
Tell me do you wanna see me do the shimmy again

pour down - lać (about rain)
wing mirror - lusterko boczne
drive into - wjechać w
hedge - zywopłot
twist - zwrot akcji
utter - wypowiadać
at one pitch - na jednej wysokości, jednym tonem

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