She tossed her cigarette as the ignition turned
She said, "There's one thing now that every clown must learn"
We drove away and she said, as the warehouse burned
"There is no heaven for i Pagliacci"
She said, "American boy, THAT'S how freedom feels
Not the kind they give you, but the kind you steal
And you will never be free until you see there really is
No heaven for i Pagliacci"
I said I'd pray for her, she said, "Tell a joke for me
Life is much too short to waste on dignity
Let our laughter burn all of Italy
There is no heaven for i Pagliacci"
And so we lay together 'neath the Turkish smoke
I said my heart might break, she said, "It long since broke
We are not vandals, love, we simply get the joke
It goes, 'But doctor, I am Pagliaccio'"
Was that how grace would feel? Was that how angels pray?
"Trick or treat, my sweetheart"? "Tanti auguri a te"?
From "Happy April Fool" to "Merry Judgment Day"
There is no heaven for i Pagliacci
And so that's how I found my way
My signorina and the kerosene and me
Drove to the shipyard, singing, "Ta-ra-ra-boom, non c'è
Paradiso per i Pagliacci"
* * *
From the album *It's a Bastard to Be Lonely*
D.G. Scherrer - voice, guitars, bass, keys
Shane Kennedy - drums
Recorded and mixed by jalipaz at audioconfusion.
Mastered by Carl Saff at Saff Mastering.
All songs (c) 2010 D.G. Scherrer.