Youtor
I Remember the Entrails
>> YOUR LINK HERE: ___ http://youtube.com/watch?v=0dtbjgXn95Y
The Alpine regions have all the best winter traditions. The narrator of this original song is a spirit or goddess often called Perchta or Berchta, which means her name in English is Bertha. This already makes her awesome. Like many other winter-associated figures, Perchta is doubled; she can be both helpful and harmful, and she sometimes appears as a beautiful young woman in white and sometimes as an old hag. If she's happy with you, she'll give you gifts. If she's not, she'll slit open your belly, scoop out your innards, and fill the cavity with trash. You know...for kids! She's also followed around by a crowd of monsters and/or unbaptised children, so there's that. She is associated with the twelve days of Christmas, especially Twelfth Night (January 6th). • This song imagines what Perchta might say if she were still hanging around in this day and age. If she insisted on moving to North America, she probably wouldn't have much to do besides make up wistful songs about her glory days. Despite what she says in the song, people do still celebrate her, though doubtless not as much as they used to, and certainly not in the same way. She seems the sort of person who would sulk if she found her tradition was waning or had become a quaint, relatively toothless relic. • Lyrics: • I Remember the Entrails • I rented a place in Toronto • A few years ago. • There was nothing at home for me any more; • No one knew me or wanted to know. • It's a little depressing to stand in the street • At the Santa Claus parade. • A jolly red fat man with presents. • What have you made? • I dress in a down coat and mittens • And even a tuque. • Watch the lights and go shopping on Sundays for • Pretty nothings; it seems a rebuke • To the tone of the season back when I was young • An endless age before. • I'm finding the cuteness is shaking me • Down to my core. • I remember the entrails. • Covered in frost, they would shine in the night. • Now there are just garlands. • I soak them in blood, but it still isn't right. • I remember the screaming, • The way they would cower and tremble in fear. • It's just not the same. • I miss yesteryear. • The music is all about candy • And presents and love. • When I go to the mall, there are reindeer there • And twinkly stars hanging above. • I am searching in vain for a piece of decor • That is a bit less bright. • The season is half about darkness; • This is nothing but light. • I remember the entrails. • I could be helpful and I could be cruel. • All that red was not charming; • The red was for blood and the harsh side of Yule. • I remember the maiming; • I get misty-eyed when I remember it, too. • It's just not the same. • It's too nice to you. • It's been a long while since I had any • Stake in this game. • Once the people knew both of my faces well; • Very few now remember my name. • My retirement really should be a relief, • But I cannot sit still. • I don't understand this guy Santa; • Why doesn't he kill? • Last night I had dinner with Krampus; • He's doing okay. • Unlike me, he has had a revival, so • He spreads plenty of fear and dismay. • But I notice a lot of his sharpness is gone; • He's grown a little tame. • What hope for this holiday if even • Krampus is lame? • I remember the entrails. • They could be eaten or played with or spun. • Now everything sparkles. • It's pretty, I guess, but it isn't much fun. • I remember the horror, • But now that has vanished because of a fad. • It's just not the same, • All good and no bad. • It's just not the same. • I walk away sad. • I remember the entrails. • http://www.karimaaren.com
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