Paul Westerberg
Paul Westerberg
Paul Westerberg
Paul Westerberg
Paul Westerberg
Paul Westerberg
Paul Westerberg
Paul Westerberg
Paul Westerberg
Paul Westerberg
Paul Westerberg
Paul Westerberg
Paul Westerberg
Her blacks crackle and drag is the last line of “Edge”, the last poem Sylvia Plath wrote, prior to committing suicide by gas oven. This version offers rather morbid thumbnail sketches of the moments before and after her suicide.
Whats the matter here?
You'll never repair
The lady's cursed with insight
You'll never fix her
With a cold stare
She's all broken inside
Her limbs clung to the ground
She closed the window
And made a pillow
And laid her head down
And as her babies slept she took a long deep breath
Now they're zipping her up in a bag
Can you hear her blacks crackle and drag?
And the Cadillac's waiting to take her away
Can you hear her blacks crackle and drag?
Another head cold
Another spirit old
In February
Her hair was dirty
And she was thirty
In 1963
And while her babies slept she took a long deep breath
Now they're zipping her up in a bag
Can you hear her blacks crackle and drag?
The Cadillac's waiting to take her away
Can you hear her blacks crackle and drag?
And drag
And drag
And drag
And drag
And drag
And drag
She made a good go
For a weeping willow
She stuffed some rags on the floor
She closed the window
She made a pillow
On the oven door
And took a long deep breath
While her babies slept
Now they're zipping her up in a bag
Can you hear her blacks crackle and drag?
And the Cadillac's waiting to take her away
Can you hear her blacks crackle and drag?
Zipping her up in a bag
Can you hear her blacks crackle and drag?
The Cadillac's waiting to take her away
Can you hear her blacks crackle and drag?
Hear her blacks crackle and drag?
Yeah