Текст песни
The best slave does not need
to be beaten
She beats herself
Not with a leather whip
or with stick or twig
Not with a blackjack or a billyclub
But with the fine whip
Of her own tongue and the subtle beating
Of her mind against her mind
For who can hate her half so well
As she hates herself?
And who can match the finesse
Of her self-abuse?
Years of training are required for this
Twenty years of subtle self-indulgence
Self-denial 'til the subject
Thinks herself a queen and yet a beggar
Both at the same time
She must doubt herself in everything but love
She must choose passionately and badly
She must feel lost as a dog without her master
She must refer all moral questions to her mirror
She must fall in love with a cossack or a poet
She must never go out of the house
Unless veiled in paint
She must wear tight shoes
So she always remembers her bondage
She must never forget
She is rooted in the ground
Though she is quick to learn
And admittedly clever
Her natural doubt of herself
Should make her so weak
That she dabbles brilliantly
in half a dozen talents
And thus embellishes but does not change our life
If she's an artist and comes close to genius
The very fact of her gift should cause her such pain
That she will take her own life rather than best us
And after she dies
We will cry and make her a saint