A phenomenal woman, that's me

Phenomenal Woman

Maya Angelou

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman

Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman

Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman

Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman

Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Song of the Day - Radiohead

Pandora was kicking some serious ass today on the YYY's station, and it threw out this little gem from my Artist of the Decade (00-09), which I hadn't heard in quite a long time. I love the song's emotional, borderline-psychotic lyrics, combined with Thom's typical (and oh-so-endearing) oddness in this live performance.

I have this sort of fantasy about many of Radiohead's songs being written by a sociopath with serial killer potential. Seriously though, how many of Thom Yorke's songs can you name that are about tender, innocent romance? The ones that have any sort of romantic theme whatsoever are more the sinister, obsessive kind - like the I-would-carry-a-vial-of-your-blood-in-my-pocket kind of romance. Like Angelina and Billy Bob. Like Marilyn Manson and - well, ANYONE he dates. It's the kind of romance where maybe for half a minute you're thinking that degree of intensity and devotion is kinda sweet, but then you're just completely freaked out by it. And then you promptly change your number and e-mail address. And potentially your name, too.

I'll drown my beliefs
To have your babies
I'll dress like your niece
To wash your swollen feet

Just don't leave
Don't leave

I'm not living
I'm just killing time
Your tiny hands
Your crazy kitten smile

Just don't leave
Don't leave

And true love waits
In haunted attics
And true love lives
On lollipops and crisps

Just don't leave
Don't leave

Song of the Day - Maritime

Song of the Day - Bloc Party

Classic, cool Bloc Party for a classic, cool dude. Happy Birthday, Josh!

Song of the Day - Priscilla Ahn

This little girl is so damn cute, I could just stick her in my pocket and pull her out on overcast days like today to sing for me and melt my heart. Such a lovely little song - a bit of a tearjerker when you're an emotional sap like myself.