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I can't stand to sing the same song the same way two nights in succession, let alone two years or ten years.
-Billie Holiday
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I Can't Stand To Sing The Same

Billie Holiday
I can't stand to sing the same song the same way two nights in succession, let alone two years or ten years.
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Song Night Years

More From Billie Holiday

Somebody/ anybody sing a black girl's song bring her out to know herself to know you but sing her rhythms carin/ struggle/ hard times sing her song of life she's been dead so long closed in silence so long she doesn't know the sound of her own voice her infinite beauty she's half-notes scattered without rhythm/ no tune sing her sighs sing the song of her possibilities sing a righteous gospel let her be born let her be born & handled warmly.
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I can't stand to sing the same song the same way two nights in succession. if you can, then it ain't music, it's close order drill, or exercise or yodeling or something, not music.
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The song that i will sing is an old song, so old that none knows who made it. it has been handed down through generations and was taught to me when i was but a little lad. it is now my own song. it belongs to me. this is a holy song (medicine-song), and great is its power. the song tells how, as i sing, i go through the air to a holy place where yusun (the supreme being) will give me power to do wonderful things. i am surrounded by little clouds, and as i go through the air i change, becoming spirit only.
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Someone once asked me why people sing. i answered that they sing for many of the same reasons the birds sing. they sing for a mate, to claim their territory, or simply to give voice to the delight of being alive in the midst of a beautiful day. perhaps more than the birds do, humans hold a grudge. they sing to complain of how grievously they have been wronged, and how to avoid it in the future. they sing to help themselves execute a job of work. they sing so the subsequent generations won’t forget what the current generation endured, or dreamed, or delighted in.
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Dear god," she prayed, "let me be something every minute of every hour of my life. let me be gay; let me be sad. let me be cold; let me be warm. let me be hungry...have too much to eat. let me be ragged or well dressed. let me be sincere - be deceitful. let me be truthful; let me be a liar. let me be honorable and let me sin. only let me be something every blessed minute. and when i sleep, let me dream all the time so that not one little piece of living is ever lost.
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...and the red sun of desire and decision (the two things that create a live world) rose higher and higher, while upon a succession of balconies a succession of libertines, sparkling glass in hand, toasted the bliss of past and future nights.
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