Like a wind in the wilderness
like a swell on the ocean...
would the spell be unbroken
if it was never phrased?
She was always the precious child,
she was always a strange one,
a derangement runs deep down through her innocent gaze.....
The gift of fire and the gift of tongues,
the gift to see what Goddess Fortune held in store;
pretty soon there were whisperings of witchcraft
from the couple next door.
She had the gift of talk turkey,
the gift of talk turkey.
She had no message for the marketplace,
she was inflamed by each moment,
she had the silver spoon of soothsay for destiny.
She was always coming on with
the gift of fire and the gift of tongues;
family affair, it was a fortune that they'd got -
pretty soon they were cooking up a story
for the communal pot;
on the prime time slot
they shot the gift of talk turkey.
Oh now she can't stop talking about the way she sees it is
and she can't stop talking about her prescience.
She can't stop talking, how dangerous that is
and she can't stop talking, no, she can't stop talking....
It's the curse of the fire and she's burning up before us
in the talk of tongues, flames that lick around the dross;
the gift of fire, if she's burning up before us
it's our communal loss,
the inevitable cost
of the gift of talk turkey.
What a windfall of wickedness
when truth gets warped to perversion;
in the official version
they'll always make it quite plain
what we're really not meant to see.
The gift of fire consumes all those who touch it
and the gift of tongues is always double-edged;
they grew aware that she would take them to the ledge,
so pretty soon they were working up a story
about the bets they could hedge.
The gift of fire and the gift of tongues...
they take her name and they grind it in the dust;
all at once they've got alibis to cover any possible bust
and she's gagged, bound and trussed
by the gift of talk turkey.
But she can't stop talking, though her audience disappears
and she can't stop talking about her prescience.
She can't stop talking, though she knows that no-one hears
she can't stop talking, she can't stop talking,
she can't stop talking - how miraculous this is!
She can't stop talking, just like Bernadette.
She can't stop talking, how dangerous that is,
and she can't stop talking, she can't stop talking,
no, she can't stop talking about the way she sees it is,
she can't stop talking, just like Joan of Arc.
She can't stop talking - man, how dangerous she is,
she can't stop talking,
she can't stop the gift of talk turkey,
the gift of talk turkey.
No, she can't stop talking.
like a swell on the ocean...
would the spell be unbroken
if it was never phrased?
She was always the precious child,
she was always a strange one,
a derangement runs deep down through her innocent gaze.....
The gift of fire and the gift of tongues,
the gift to see what Goddess Fortune held in store;
pretty soon there were whisperings of witchcraft
from the couple next door.
She had the gift of talk turkey,
the gift of talk turkey.
She had no message for the marketplace,
she was inflamed by each moment,
she had the silver spoon of soothsay for destiny.
She was always coming on with
the gift of fire and the gift of tongues;
family affair, it was a fortune that they'd got -
pretty soon they were cooking up a story
for the communal pot;
on the prime time slot
they shot the gift of talk turkey.
Oh now she can't stop talking about the way she sees it is
and she can't stop talking about her prescience.
She can't stop talking, how dangerous that is
and she can't stop talking, no, she can't stop talking....
It's the curse of the fire and she's burning up before us
in the talk of tongues, flames that lick around the dross;
the gift of fire, if she's burning up before us
it's our communal loss,
the inevitable cost
of the gift of talk turkey.
What a windfall of wickedness
when truth gets warped to perversion;
in the official version
they'll always make it quite plain
what we're really not meant to see.
The gift of fire consumes all those who touch it
and the gift of tongues is always double-edged;
they grew aware that she would take them to the ledge,
so pretty soon they were working up a story
about the bets they could hedge.
The gift of fire and the gift of tongues...
they take her name and they grind it in the dust;
all at once they've got alibis to cover any possible bust
and she's gagged, bound and trussed
by the gift of talk turkey.
But she can't stop talking, though her audience disappears
and she can't stop talking about her prescience.
She can't stop talking, though she knows that no-one hears
she can't stop talking, she can't stop talking,
she can't stop talking - how miraculous this is!
She can't stop talking, just like Bernadette.
She can't stop talking, how dangerous that is,
and she can't stop talking, she can't stop talking,
no, she can't stop talking about the way she sees it is,
she can't stop talking, just like Joan of Arc.
She can't stop talking - man, how dangerous she is,
she can't stop talking,
she can't stop the gift of talk turkey,
the gift of talk turkey.
No, she can't stop talking.