The Private And Intimate Life Of The House

I've aged
I've aged so very much
I fall asleep at the table
My napkin drops to the floor.

I'm full of childish vanities
I forget things
And I love in the past
I've aged so very much.

People enjoy me though
I come in for tea in my old-fashioned coat and powered wig
And I tell stories
And utter scathing critiques.

This old-fashioned house
With its gigantic mirrors and powered footmen
And this stern, shrewd old man
A relic of the past century
With his gentle daughter
Is a majestic and agreeable spectacle.

But besides the couple hours during which we have guests
There are also twenty-two hours in the day
During which the private and intimate life of the house continues.

Bring me my slippers
Yes father yes father
Bring me my wine
Yes father yes father
Oh father.

And I never go anywhere
Never invited
For who would take care of him
Who would take care.

And I have no friends
No no no
Girl, all my friends are dead
No one
All my friends are dead.

Time is moving
It's now or never
My fate is slipping past me
Silence! Silence!
Yes father yes father
Shut your damn mouth girl
Shut your damn mouth
I can hurt you
I can hurt you.

But I never ever ever ever would
This is just how it is
It's just how he is
I'm always to blame.

He could beat me
Or treat me like a dog
Make me fetch wood or water
And that's just how it is
Oh father
I love you father.

Time is moving
It's now or never
I've abandoned the hope of getting married.

Ah! What's this, a young suitor?
Ah, come in come in
But don't sit down
Don't sit down
I'm cold to you
Yes I'm mean to you
Now be gone be gone be gone
And don't come back!

Maybe I'll marry someone myself
Some cheap French thing
Oh that offends you does it?
Ah, come in my dear, come in my dear, come in.

And he draws her to him
And he kisses her hand
Embraces her affectionately
And I flush and run out of the room.

Come back here
Let an old man have his fun
Wipe away your tears girl
I don't want your tears.

On that horrible woman
Vile and inhuman
She's using you, Papa
Wants your money Papa
To take advantage of your weakness like that
It's disgusting
My voice breaks.

It's my money
And I'll throw it where I want
Not at you!
And not at Andrey's harlot!
It's my money, my money
Mine all mine!

Insolent girl!
Insolent girl!
Where
Where
Where are my glasses?
Where are, where are they?
Where are my glasses?
Where are
Where.

Oh God
Oh God I'm frightened
Oh God I've
I've aged, I've aged so very much
Oh God I'm frightened
Where
Where are my glasses?
Where are my, where are my
Where are my glasses?

There are there upon his head
They are there upon his head
The pride of sacrifice
Gathers in my soul
They are there upon his head.

And he forgets things
He lives in the past
He falls asleep at the table
His napkin drops to the floor
His shaking head
Sinks over his plate.

He is old and feeble
And I dare to judge him
I disgust myself
I disgust myself.