Murder Me

You came
You punched a hole in me
Dialectically, as you correctly say
I took the blows
Square on the chin
Let murder now begin
No ambulance
No angry palanquin
Just a golden fist in a rubber glove
A laundry dye
Like Antonin Artaud, scandalo

But murder me
To the shriek of orchestras that saw the air
Make this glory disappear
Oh, oh

As loyal as Krambambuli
You are my star, my lovely bully beef
You left your seconds fighting with your coolies
You throw punches that punctuate the night
So pull back the curtain
So at last it's certain
The golden fist in the rubber glove
(Murder me to the shriek of orchestras that saw the air)
Take me, take me away
As gatherers, gatherers, gatherers can

Murder me
Murder me
Throw me into the night
Rock me up with delight, oh
Murder me
Squeeze me through the keyhole of eternity
To be or not to be, oh