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The myriad choices of his fate
Set themselves out upon a plate
For him to choose
What had he to lose
Not a ghost bloodied country
All covered with sleep
Where the black angel did weep
Not an old city street in the east
Gone to choose
And wandering's brother
Walked on through the night
With his hair in his face
On a long splintered cut from the knife of g.t.
The rally man's patter ran on through the dawn
Until we said so long
To his skull-shrill yell
Shining brightly red-rimmed and
Red-lined with the time
Infused with the choice of the mind
On ice skates scraping chunks
From the bells
Cut mouth bleeding razor's
Forgetting the pain
Antiseptic remains cool goodbye
So you fly
To the cozy brown snow of the east
Gone to choose, choose again
Sacrificials remains make it hard to forget
Where you come from
The stools of your eyes
Serve to realize fame, choose again
And roverman's refrain of the sacrilege recluse
For the loss of a horse
Went the bowels and a tail of a rat
Come again, choose to go
And if epiphany's terror reduced you to shame
Have your head bobbed and weaved
Choose a side to be on
If the stone glances off
Split didactics in two
Leave the colors of the mouse trails
Don't scream, try between
If you choose, if you choose, try to lose
For the loss of remain come and start
Start the game i che che che che i
Che che ka tak koh
Choose to choose
Choose to choose, choose to go
Set themselves out upon a plate
For him to choose
What had he to lose
Not a ghost bloodied country
All covered with sleep
Where the black angel did weep
Not an old city street in the east
Gone to choose
And wandering's brother
Walked on through the night
With his hair in his face
On a long splintered cut from the knife of g.t.
The rally man's patter ran on through the dawn
Until we said so long
To his skull-shrill yell
Shining brightly red-rimmed and
Red-lined with the time
Infused with the choice of the mind
On ice skates scraping chunks
From the bells
Cut mouth bleeding razor's
Forgetting the pain
Antiseptic remains cool goodbye
So you fly
To the cozy brown snow of the east
Gone to choose, choose again
Sacrificials remains make it hard to forget
Where you come from
The stools of your eyes
Serve to realize fame, choose again
And roverman's refrain of the sacrilege recluse
For the loss of a horse
Went the bowels and a tail of a rat
Come again, choose to go
And if epiphany's terror reduced you to shame
Have your head bobbed and weaved
Choose a side to be on
If the stone glances off
Split didactics in two
Leave the colors of the mouse trails
Don't scream, try between
If you choose, if you choose, try to lose
For the loss of remain come and start
Start the game i che che che che i
Che che ka tak koh
Choose to choose
Choose to choose, choose to go
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like a trippy narrative of having one foot in the realm of death and one in NYC or something. love this song.
the last line of this song is 'choose to go'. i think this song is about embracing your fate, knowingly following the path that will probably end your life with guns blazing. i mean look at the title, it's obviously a song about death. there's plenty of imagery to suggests it.
also, i like that the black angel is portrayed as weeping. it's not a malevolent force, but a compassionate, remorseful one. the metaphysical implications of this song seem staggering if you take the view that reed was telling some kind of story or making some point.
I personally think the guy is a jackass, and that he channels dead music gods from time to time, in-between putting out albums and albums of crap.
the last line of this song is 'choose to go'. i think this song is about embracing your fate, knowingly following the path that will probably end your life with guns blazing. i mean look at the title, it's obviously a song about death. there's plenty of imagery to suggests it.
also, i like that the black angel is portrayed as weeping. it's not a malevolent force, but a compassionate, remorseful one. the metaphysical implications of this song seem staggering if you take the view that reed was telling some kind of story or making some point.
I personally think the guy is a jackass, and that he channels dead music gods from time to time, in-between putting out albums and albums of crap.
I suspect that old Lou Reed would find you all trying to dissect his lyrics pretty funny. The only really perceptive comment here is gnagy's.
ALSO:
"And if Epiphany's terror reduced you to shame
Have your head bobbed and weaved
Choose a side to be on"
This always made me think of sex change. "Bobbed and weaved" - a bob cut is usually a women's hairstyle. Also "choose a side to be on" - that speaks for itself.