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Rufus Wainwright
Rufus Wainwright


Background information
Birth name Rufus McGarrigle Wainwright
Born July 22, 1973
Born place Rhinebeck, New York, United States
Origin Montreal, Canada
Genre(s) Baroque Pop
Operatic Pop
Years active 1993—present
Label(s) Geffen Records
DreamWorks
Website Website



Music World  →  Lyrics  →  R  →  Rufus Wainwright  →  Albums  →  Want Two

Rufus Wainwright Album


Want Two (11/16/2004)
11/16/2004
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Coeur De Parisienne (Reprise; bonus track)
14.
. . .



Agnus dei
Agnus dei
Qui tollis peccata mundi
Agnus dei
Agnus dei
Qui tollis peccata mundi
Dona nobis pacem
Dona nobis pacem
pacem
Dona nobis pacem

Translation:
Lamb of God
You who take away the sins of the world
Lamb of God
You who take away the sins of the world

Give Us Peace
Give Us Peace
Peace
Give Us Peace.

. . .



The mind has so many pictures
Why can't I sleep with my eyes open
The mind has so many memories
Can you remember what it looks like when I cry

I'm Trying, trying to tell you
All that I can in a sweet and velvet tongue
But no words ever could sell you
Sell you on me after all that I have done

I'm only the one you love
Am I only the one you love?
The Lady Gloom and her hornets circling round
Is now before us, the screaming's done without moving
One little move and for sure you will be stung

I'm singing "Oh, Jerusalem oh, Jerusalem
See what he's picked up in the park"
Let's f**k this awful art party
Want you to make love to me and only to me in the dark

I'm only the one you love
Am I only the one you love?

We've traded in our snap shots
We're going through the motions
Into the view, I'm leaving you
Down Conduit Avenue into the early morning
Into the early morning
The one I love
Are you only the one I love?

. . .



Is true love a trip to Chinatown
Or being held in one's opium gaze
Under the peach trees
There I'll sit and wait

Is true love a long walk through Bryant park
Or being held in the month of May
under the peach trees
There I will be, will be until you come and get me

Cause I'm so tired of waiting in restaurants
reading the critics and comics alone
With a waiter with a face made for currency
Like a coin in ancient Rome

And I really do wish you were here next to me
cause I'm going to see James Dean
There I will be
Under the peach trees with him

. . .



Little sister come and sit beside me, beside me
And we'll play a tune on this old piano forte
Just for a while, just for a while, just for a while
Til your hair becomes a powdered wig 
And I become a total bastard
Feet that hardly reach the pedal
Sold to a tremendous shadow

Ave ave history is on my side
So complain have no shame
And remember that your brother is a boy

Though it seems the stakes contain some ante-grate 
We all feel it still is based on good old intrigue
Just for a while, just for a while, just for a while
You may have to use your hips as fodder
Still putting your best foot forward
Madame didn't stack the cupboard ended up like mother hubbard
Ave, buddy (?), history is still a game
So complain have no shame and remember that round one has just been played

And you are poised for centuries to claim 
Follow examples from no longer a choice
The world be just a ball to pass or gaze upon

And one more thing
Before we go on again
Let's end this maze
Keep out the threat of a kid
Oh my little-little sister

. . .



There I was in uniform
Looking at the art teacher
I was just a girl then;
Never have I loved since then

He was not that much older than I was
He had taken our class to the Metropolitan Museum
He asked us what our favorite work of art was,
But never could I tell it was him
Oh, I wish I could tell him --
Oh, I wish I could have told him

I looked at the Rubens and Rembrandts
I liked the John Singer Sargents
He told me he liked Turner
Never have I turned since then
No, never have I turned to any other man

All this having been said,
I married an executive company head
All this having been done, a Turner - I own one
Here I am in this uniformish, pant-suit sort of thing,
Thinking of the art teacher
I was just a girl then;
Never have I loved since then
No, never have I loved any other man

. . .



The drummers and jugglers in Montreal
Don't even exist at all
So I'm tearing up these tarot cards and Venetians clowns
Antique shops and alcoholic homosexuals

You may ask why I want to torch my home town
Partly it's bitterness and hopping 'round and 'round again
On Ontario Street looking up
Maybe I'll catch him on his way to the show

You travel the world and find all the answers
Everything operates on the unattainables
And then you hear your mother laugh attached to the phone
Could have walked around the block 'cause all roads lead to home

Say, will you ever ever ever know,
Ever ever ever fly away?
Will you ever ever ever go,
Ever ever ever find a way?

. . .



I don't know what I'm doing
I don't know what I'm saying
I don't know why I'm watching all these white people dancing

I don't know where I'm going
But I do know that I'm walking
Where?
I don't know
Just away from this love affair

I can't say that I'm cruisin'
Not that I don't like cruisin'
Just that I'm bruisin from you

I can't say that I'm waltzin'
Not that I don't like waltzing
Would rather be waltzin' with you

So I guess that I'm going
I guess that I am walking
Where?
I don't know
Just away from this love affair

. . .



He will then be reborn
From 1970's porn
Wearing tubesocks with style
And such an innocent smile

Better pray for your sins
Better pray for your sins
'Cuz the gay messiah's coming

He will fall from the stars
Studio 54
And appear on the sand
Of Fire Island's shore

Better pray for your sins
Better pray for your sins
'Cuz the gay messiah's coming

No it will not be me
Rufus the baptist I be
No I won't be the one
Baptized in cum

What will happen instead
Someone will demand my head
And then I will kneel down
And give it to them looking down

Better pray for your sins
Better pray for your sins
'Cuz the gay messiah's coming

. . .



Never thought of Hades
Under the Mississippi
But still I've come to sing for him
So southern furies
Prepare to walk for my harp
I have strung, and I will leave with him
Relax the cogs of rhyme
Over the Memphis sky
Turn back the wheels of time
Under the Memphis skyline
always hated him for the way he looked
In the gaslight of the morning
Then came hallelujah sounding like Ophelia
for me in my room living
So kiss me, my darling stay with me till morning
Turn back and you will stay
Under the Memphis Skyline

. . .



Waiting for the present, for the present to pass
Waiting for a dream to last
You are not my lover, and you never will be
'Cause you've never done anything to hurt me

There's a fire in the priory
And it's ruining this cocktail party
Yesterday I heard they cloned a baby
Now can I finally sleep with me?

Diving through the rising, through the rising waves of night
Keeping a reflection of you in hindsight
But in turning back the brackish waters will not reflect you
After you have turned the color black of death or something like that

There's a fire in the priory
And it's ruining this cocktail party
Yesterday I heard the plague is coming
Once again, to find me

There's a fire in the priory
And an ogre in the oval office
Once again we all will be so broken
Now can I finally sleep again?

. . .



Maybe in you I'll believe
Maybe I'll believe in you
The future of my understanding of love
Many a time I've before
Before I've many a time
Knocked a stranger's door
Discretion hardly I'm known for
Probably has nothing to, nothing at all in the world to do with you
Just your lower lip on the floor

But baby I gotta get through
Crumb by crumb in this big black forest
Maybe in you I'll believe
Maybe I'll believe in you

Suddenly I'm not myself
Behind the facade is a lonely fountain, here
Suddenly you are the one
Who opens the gates to this unruly garden
Come and let this man go, you

'Cause baby I got to get through
Crumb by crumb in this big black forest
Maybe in you I'll believe
Maybe I'll believe in you

Suddenly you're not yourself
Behind the facade is a lonely angel, still
Suddenly I am the one who opens the gates to this now gloomy garden
Come and let this man go crumb by crumb in this big black forest
You I'll believe, crumb by crumb in this big black forest
You I'll believe, crumb by crumb in this big black forest...

. . .



An old whore's diet
Gets me going in the morning
Ain't nothing like it
Gets me going in the morning

To say I love you
Gets me going where I want to
Oh, gets me going
Oh, gets me going in the morning

(Repeats)

Hell, either here or Hell will do
Either here or Hell will employ you
Suicidal assistance
An old whore's diet

. . .



On me dit un minois mieux que joli
De même on me le dit
Et ce compliment me ravît

Il paraît que j'ai un drôle d'accent
Joli drôle et troublant
Qui vaut un regard caressant

J'ai l'air de voir la vie en rose
Mais mon coeur rêve d'autre chose

Aimer, sincèrement de mon coeur tendre
Celui qui pourrait me comprendre
Et s'il le fallait me défendre

Aimer, ah! je veux vivement qu'il vienne
Celui qui bercera la peine
De mon âme de parisienne

Toute seule, hélas! je suis désormais
Et pourtant je croyais
Lire dans ses yeux qu'il m'aimait

Il mentait je ne vais pas en mourir
À peine un peu souffrir
Mais pas au point de m'enlaidir

J'ai l'air de voir la vie en rose
Mais mon coeur rêve d'autre chose

Aimer, sincèrement de mon coeur tendre
Celui qui pourrait me comprendre
Et s'il le fallait me défendre

Aimer, ah! je veux vivement qu'il vienne
Celui qui bercera la peine
De mon âme de parisienne

Translation:

They say of me that I have a pretty face
And so I am told
And this compliment pleases me

I seems that I have a funny accent
Beautiful funny and unsettling
That brings a caressing look

I appear to see life in pink
But my heart dreams of something else

To love, sincerly from my tender heart
The one that could understand me
And if necessary to defend me

To love, oh! I want him so much to come
The one that will sooth the sadness
Of my Parisian soul

Alone, alas! I am from now on
And yet I believed
I read in his eyes that he loved me

He lied, I will not die from it
Barely will I suffer
But not to the point of loosing my beauty

I appear to see life in pink
But my heart dreams of something else

To love, sincerly from my tender heart
The one that could understand me
And if necessary to defend me

To love, oh! I want him so much to come
The one that will sooth the sadness
Of my Parisian soul

. . .


Written by Gilles Vigneault

Quand vous mourrez de nos amours
J'irai planter dans le jardin
Fleur à fleurir de beau matin
Moitié métal, moitié papier
Pour me blesser un peu le pied
Mourez de mort très douce
Qu'une fleur pousse

Quand vous mourrez de nos amours
J'en ferai sur l'air de ce temps
Chanson chanteuse pour sept ans
Vous l'entendrez, vous l'apprendrez
Et vos lèvres m'en seront gré
Mourez de mort très lasse
Que je la fasse

Quand vous mourrez de nos amours
J'en ferai deux livres si beaux
Qu'ils vous serviront de tombeau
Et m'y coucherai à mon tour
Car je mourrai le même jour
Mourez de mort très tendre
À les attendre

Quand vous mourrez de nos amours
J'irai me pendre avec la clef
Au crochet des bonheurs bâclés
Et les chemins par nous conquis
Nul ne saura jamais par qui
Mourez de mort exquise
Que je le dise

Quand vous mourrez de nos amours
Si trop peu vous reste de moi
Ne me demandez pas pourquoi
Dans les mensonges qui suivraient
Nous ne serions ni beaux ni vrais
Mourez de mort très vive
Que je vous suive

. . .


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