Back to the English Class

So there was this woman and she was on an airplane, and she was flying to meet her fiancé seaming high above the largest ocean on planet earth. She was seated next to this man she had tried to start conversations, but the only thing she had really heard him say was to order his Bloody Mary. She was sitting there and she was reading this really arduous magazine article about a third world country that she couldn’t even pronounce the name of. And she was feeling very bored and very despondent*(déprimée). And then suddenly there was this huge mechanical failure and one of the engines gave out, and they started just falling thirty-thousand feet, and the pilot’s on the microphone and he’s saying “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, oh my god... I'm sorry” and apologizing. And she looks at the man and she says “Where are we going?” and he looks at her and he says “We’re going to a party. It’s a birthday party. It’s your birthday party. Happy birthday darling. We love you very, very, very, very, very, very, very much.” And then he starts humming* (fredonner) this little tune, it kind of goes like this: 1, 2, 1, 2, 3, 4

We must talk in every telephone
Get eaten off the web
We must rip out all the epilogues in the books that we have read
And in the face of every criminal
Strapped firmly to a chair
We must stare, we must stare, we must stare

We must take all of the medicines too expensive now to sell
Set fire to the preacher who is promising us hell
And in the ear of every anarchist that sleeps but doesn’t dream
We must sing, we must sing, we must sing

It’ll go like this:

While my mother waters *plants                                                                                                    *(arroser)
My father loads his guns
He says death will give us back to God
Just like this setting sun is returned to the lonesome ocean

And then they splashed into the deep blue sea
It was a wonderful splash

We must blend* into the choir                                                                                                        * (se fondre)
Sing as static with the whole
We must memorize nine numbers and deny we have a soul
And in this endless race for property and privilege to be won
We must run, we must run, we must run

We must hang up in the belfry*                                                                                                      * (clocher)
Where the bats and moonlight laugh
We must stare into a crystal ball and only see the past
And in the caverns of tomorrow
With just our flashlights and our love
We must plunge, we must plunge, we must plunge

And then we’ll get down there, way down to the very bottom of everything
And then we’ll see it, oh we’ll see it, we’ll see it, we’ll see it

Oh my morning's coming back
The whole world’s waking up
All the city buses swimming past
I’m happy just because
I found out I am really no one