Текст песни Patti Smith — Babelogue

I haven't fucked much with the past,
But I've fucked plenty with the future.
Over the skin of silk are scars
From the splinters of stations and walls I've caressed.
A stage is like each bolt of wood,
Like a log of Helen, is my pleasure.
I would measure the success of a night
By the way by the way by the amount of piss and seed
I could exude over the columns that nestled the P.A.
Some nights I'd surprise everybody
By skipping off with a skirt of green net
Sewed over with flat metallic circles
Which dazzled and flashed.
The lights were violet and white.
I had an ornamental veil, but I couldn't bear to use it.
When my hair was cropped, I craved covering,
But now my hair itself is a veil,
And the scalp inside is a scalp of a crazy and sleepy
Comanche lies beneath this netting of the skin.
I wake up. I am lying peacefully I am lying peacefully
And my knees are open to the sun.
I desire him, and he is absolutely ready to seize me.
In heart I am a Moslem; in heart I am an American;
In heart I am Moslem, in heart I'm an American artist, and I have no guilt.
I seek pleasure. I seek the nerves under your skin.
The narrow archway; the layers; the scroll of ancient lettuce.
We worship the flaw, the belly, the belly,
The mole on the belly of an exquisite whore.
He spared the child and spoiled the rod.
I have not sold myself to God.