Feeling: rigid
Listening to: Seether - Never Leave
Reading/Watching: graduate textbook. bleh.

I oh must go on standing
You can't break that which isn't yours
I oh must go on standing
I'm not my own, it's not my choice

Be afraid of the lame, they'll inherit your legs
Be afraid of the old, they'll inherit your souls
Be afraid of the cold, they'll inherit your blood
Apr�s moi, le deluge, after me comes the flood

I oh must go on standing
You can't break that which isn't yours
I must go on standing
I'm not my own, it's not my choice

Be afraid of the lame, they'll inherit your legs
Be afraid of the old, they'll inherit your souls
Be afraid of the cold, they'll inherit your blood
Apr�s moi le deluge, after me comes the flood

[Russian*]

Be afraid of the lame, they'll inherit your legs
Be afraid of the old, they'll inherit your souls
Be afraid of the cold, they'll inherit your blood
Apres moi le deluge, after me comes the flood

I oh must go on standing
You can't break that which isn't yours
I oh must go on standing
I'm not my own, It's not my choice

Song: Apr�s Moi, by Regina Spektor.
*=Words from a poem by Boris Pasternak. English translation:
February. Get ink, shed tears.
Write of it, sob your heart out, sing,
While torrential slush that roars
Burns in the blackness of the spring.

I have been singing this quite defiantly in the car. I wish I had the Russian lyrics written out somewhere. I want to sing along, but I am not so linguistically gifted as to pick it up by ear. I just love the gutteral sort of grunt in the first line... as if someone just punched her in the stomach, but she recovers.

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