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letra de baby, i'll look you around - vítor de giácomo

pucker up, my pattering dryad, and disclose how jocund you are
and whether your roscid skin is aroused or arrant dank and aloof
passion’s dewy moisture exudes and runs across your dithering lips
and your shanks shake awfully, thus you can’t get it over mistake-proof

how can a heady sou of ichor put a crimp on one’s soul barbican?
and how is it possible any learned man to skink you with such an atter?
whilst you preen your mind furniture, someone with hands akimbo watches a cantrip
and misses to stave it in against your hard-devised plans in core matters

ma fille, you haven’t hung your shingles out as yet, for, before the first step
you ought to desert your outlook of life’s vicissitudes as frelines in a gift pyxis
also, you need not wear a louboutin and tart up like a spic-and-span sl-t for every roué’s ogle
your self-indulgent conceit withgoes the bounds of morals, thus my s. chase-like conduct must be now ceased

baby, i’ll watch you
sobeit no one’ll outmatch my view
baby, i’ll look you around

baby, you’ll need me
so will i as long as you bede me
to help you get off the ground

baby, please apprise me
so that i soon realize thee
baby, i’ll look you around!
i rebuke you for playing a daddeldu puffing madcap and mesel dépliants plenty of sophistic sorites
goading kooky and tawdry rebels away from the desakotas’ filthy gullies
and holding up the role of a rubes’ barch when, actually, these duds should be whishted
also, one ought to loop a hard-unfastening crupper around the chodas of these cullies

you pay observance to a poshlost-hallowing deity seemingly born in exile, as hortia had it
but not a fair and ordinary one, rather an abaddon of greedy siloviks diffusing mephitic baraka
in each log from the upas trees thither, there are rents whereof wicked and impure humors you tread in
off-guard piercingly roll over your epicene doudou, and no ashiyu or katharmoi can hinder such a naraka!

father, let me meet my crew
i’ll explore this main of taboo
and erase any vestige thereof

father, i take your reproof on board
but i’m a pert and jaunty teenage girl
and at your spry but creaky wonts, i scoff

baby, your dawgs yearn to suck you
and on the spot, they will f-ck you
hence i must look you around

i’ll look you around
baby!
(dad, leave me alone!)
(no, never!)
(why?)
(because i love you!)
(really?)
(…)
(well, i love you too!)
my world-view and beinghood are blithely ethereal, dream-like and psychedelic to a degree
that couldn’t unravel its sense and meaning either artemidorus daldensis or iamblichus
my most sincere and dutiful ex-votos are devoted to the exuberant undines of dales and woods
like those aromatic, not miasmatic, from the frothy and restful waters of vallis amsanctus

i am enabled, i ween, to libate my fizzy drinks and spirits whenever i want to do so
i appreciate and am fond of vamamarga tradition, or black magic as outsiders ignorantly often bename it
but my debonair wealthy friends, spruce spars clad in risqué kembans and i’ve already chartered a tony tenement in 57th street
sending out abramelin’s ointments, bl–dy and sheeny pranic wares, and nard-made lotions from tantric hermits

so frec a frec to that i hold as true
i feel not vaunt’d, but deigned as a wight
my freedom to exert my desires
keeps me alive and powers my mind light

the browse of my orchard oaks gives nature
a ray of renewal on earth’s vintage
which is the pleasing balsam of grace’s sport
id est, my promiscuous capers’ age

i won’t shrive you, i promise to myself truly
i can’t give up who i am and forsake my self
the world is a mystery full of ley-lines and ghosts
and in a search for understanding its ens i’ll delve

let me be, let me go, let me in
my mind is like a yard
i regard it, put weeds in it, thrive flowers in it
and i’ll be free!
let me prance, let me dance, let me chance
life is a riddle
i’ll fiddle, i’ll pounce on your sulky tyranny
and make me free!

i am compelled to state, by dint of my hard- and long-achieved wisdom and experience
i have the duty and authority to act a medix tuticus to ascertain the wrength of your deeds
or their rightness, so that i may be able to make your path to your enlightenment more easygoing
and also happier and wiser, for if i hadn’t done so, i wouldn’t have been entitled to my holiest meed

as a father of yours, elegant and joking adolescent, my bond to you is always strong and forceful
your self-consciousness being apace, each day, enhanced and heading towards the higher decks of life
is what really rejoices me, and drives me to sacrifice myself only for your highest good, my little one
and, not putting myself on airs, such a task is certainly a numinous one, and its guerdons are the most rife

father, i take your reproof on board
but i’m a pert and jaunty teenage girl
and at your spry but creaky wonts, i scoff

father, let me meet my crew
i’ll explore this main of taboo
and erase any vestige thereof

baby, i’ll watch you
sobeit no one’ll outmatch my view
baby, i’ll look you around

baby, you’ll need me
so will i as long as you bede me
to help you get off the ground

baby, your dawgs yearn to suck you
and on the spot, they will f-ck you
hence i must look you around

dad, i won’t ever shrive you, i promise to myself truly
i can’t give up who i am and forsake my self
the world is a mystery full of ley-lines and ghosts
and in a search for understanding its ens i’ll delve

let me be, let me go, let me in
my mind is like a yard
i regard it, put weeds in it, thrive flowers in it
and i’ll be free!

let me fancy, let me dance, let me chance
life is a riddle
i’ll fiddle, i’ll pounce on your sulky tyranny
and make me free!

let me be, let me go, let me in
my mind is like a yard
i regard it, put weeds in it, thrive flowers in it
and i’ll be free!

let me prance, let me dance, let me chance
life is a riddle
i’ll fiddle, i’ll pounce on your sulky tyranny
and make me free!

let me be, let me go, let me in
my mind is like a yard
i regard it, put weeds in it, thrive flowers in it
and i’ll be free!
and i’ll be free!
i’ll be free!

(daughter!)
(what’s up?)
(“legum denique idcirco omnes servi sumus, ut liberi esse possimus.”)
(dad, i don’t know latin!)
(ok, i’ll make it easier.)
(hum!)
(“la liberté est le droit de faire tout ce que les lois permettent.”)
(dad, i know neither latin, nor french!)
(i should be pickier in my polyglot sw-nk of quotes to my dear lady.)
(you should speak english, not show yourself off.)
(so i’ll tell you: you are allowed to do everything as long as it is according to the laws.)
(whose laws?)
(the laws of love.)
(hum!)
(i love you, my daughter.)
(…)
(i love you, my father. […] is your love for me forever?)
(forever!)

- vitor de giacomo

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