Ritual de lo HabitualThree Days
Three days was the morning. My focus three days old. My head, it landed to the sounds of cricket bows... I am proud man anyway... Covered now by three days...This song is such a rush. It's a fevered pitch into headlong headstrong and i can never resist the sheer barely tamed agression of that band propelling live straight through the pounding percussion and soaring guitars; all the religio-hedonistic lyrics make me feel like a love warrior when i listen to it loud enough.some times when this song comes on, i think, oh no, i'm not ready to listen to this song. it's too powerful for this moment. but i usually always let it play through and it takes whatever moment i'm in and makes it transcendent. it is Jane's Addiction at it's best, everything it ever was and all the kind of raw energy they could ever channel and shoves it through your ears straight down your spine into your quivering ass. it's really quite a song.
From an October 2001 AOL chat transcript, a more wizened Perry speaks on this song:
Question: Perry, I read an article many years back... you said if you can't get the meaning of the song in three days, then you happened to experience life. Care to explain what you meant in writing the song?Perry Farrell: Well, I think that there ought to be a moment or two in one's life that it is they -- as an adult -- taking their party to the limit. And that's quite simply what the story is about, so anyone who couldn't understand the lyrics probably has not taken their party to the limit yet.
Three ways was the morning. Three lovers, in three ways. We knew when she landed, three days she'd stay. I am a proud man anyway... Covered now by three days...
We saw shadows of the morning light the shadows of the evening sun till the shadows and the light were one. Shadows of the morning light the shadows of the evening sun till the shadows and the light were one...
True hunting is over. No herds to follow. Without game, men prey on each other. The family weakens by the bite we swallow...
True leaders gone, of land and people. We choose no kin but adopted strangers. The family weakens by the length we travel... All of us with wings... All of us with wings... All of us with wings! All of us with wings! All of us with wings! All of us with wings!
Erotic Jesus lays with his Marys. Loves his Marys. Bits of puzzle, hitting each other. All now with wings! "Oh my Marys! Never wonder... Night is shelter for nudity's shiver..." All now with wings...
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