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Another familiar type of lovesong is the passionate or firy variety, usually in tango tempo, in which the singer exhorts his partner to haunt him and taunt him and, if at all possible, to consum |
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With a kiss of fire. this particular illustration of this genre is called the masochism tango. |
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I ache for the touch of your lips, dear, |
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But much more for the touch of your whips, dear. |
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You can raise welts |
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Like nobody else, |
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As we dance to the masochism tango. |
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Let our love be a flame, not an ember, |
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Say it's me that you want to dismember. |
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Blacken my eye, |
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Set fire to my tie, |
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As we dance to the masochism tango. |
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At your command |
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Before you here i stand, |
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My heart is in my hand. ecch! |
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It's here that i must be. |
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My heart entreats, |
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Just hear those savage beats, |
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And go put on your cleats |
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And come and trample me. |
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Your heart is hard as stone or mahogany, |
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That's why i'm in such exquisite agony. |
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My soul is on fire, |
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It's aflame with desire, |
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Which is why i perspire |
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When we tango. |
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You caught my nose |
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In your left castanet, love, |
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I can feel the pain yet, love, |
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Ev'ry time i hear drums. |
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And i envy the rose |
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That you held in your teeth, love, |
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With the thorns underneath, love, |
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Sticking into your gums. |
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Your eyes cast a spell that bewitches. |
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The last time i needed twenty stitches |
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To sew up the gash |
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That you made with your lash, |
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As we danced to the masochism tango. |
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Bash in my brain, |
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And make me scream with pain, |
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Then kick me once again, |
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And say we'll never part. |
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I know too well |
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I'm underneath your spell, |
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So, darling, if you smell |
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Something burning, it's my heart. |
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Excuse me! |
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Take your cigarette from its holder, |
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And burn your initials in my shoulder. |
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Fracture my spine, |
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And swear that you're mine, |
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As we dance to the masochism tango. |
