[Music]
This is KZSU, Stanford.
Welcome to entitled opinions.
My name is Robert Harrison.
We're coming to you from the Stanford campus.
[Music]
Our topic today is women and madness,
especially in literature and what a copula that is.
How far back does the end of women and madness go?
All the way back to the crazed women of antiquity,
haunting our unconscious.
The medias, the meduses, the furries, the harpies, the main ads.
They all still rave inside of us and tigony along with them.
Such as the power of archetypes, they endure their stories reiterate,
they take on ever-new incarnations.
I've said it before on this program, almost all the archetypes in our collective unconscious
were discovered by the Greeks.
No one knows exactly why.
Shakespeare may be added a couple of new ones to the conventional,
Ophelia of the willows, for example.
Jeez the type of a more tender kind of madness,
the madness of an infinitely gentle, infinitely suffering thing.
Ophelia moves us rather than terrifies us.
Her passive, helpless, profoundly wounded folly
marks her as a modern rather than a classical feminine type.
Stay tuned friends, a show about what happens to the figure of the mad woman
across the 20th century coming up.
[Music]
Ophelia incapable of her own distress, climbing a willow tree that grows a slant of
brook, its branch falling into the river, with Ophelia on it.
Let me take this occasion to call on Conrad Arthur Hambou,
whose voice we haven't heard for quite some time on entitled opinions.
When he was 16 years old, Hambou wrote a poem about Ophelia
that remains one of the most exquisite of the modern French canon.
Here's how it begins.
[Music]
On the calm, black wave where sleep the stars,
white Ophelia floats like a great lily.
Flotes very slowly lying in her long veils.
Far off in the woods you can hear them sound the mort.
For more than a thousand years, sad Ophelia has passed a white ghost
down the long black river. For more than a thousand years her sweet madness has
murmured its ballad to the evening breeze.
Ophelia, Opofo, she was made for poetry, made for opera.
Speaking of opera, I'm joined in the studios of KZSU today by Maria Masuko,
an eminently sane young scholar who started training as an opera singer.
While on that path she fell in love with the Italian language and then with
Italian letters, and then fell in love with our Italian studies program
here at Stanford where she recently earned her PhD in Italian literature
with a remarkable dissertation about what happens to the figure of the
hysterical woman across the 20th century.
And in particular about how various Italian women writers
have reworked and recast the figural tradition of sick,
neurotic, or languid female characters into something quite different
from the standard fair, Maria, welcome to entitled opinions. I'm glad you could join us today.
Thank you so much. It's an honored to be here with you.
The topic of madness and gender is a huge one to be sure,
but I'm curious about the rather tentative thesis I threw out there. It didn't sound
tentative, but in my mind it's still tentative that
Ophelia, the character from Shakespeare's Hamlet play,
is a more modern, more gentle, more tender, passive, modern,
feminine type of the mad woman. Do you think that there is this distinction between
a figure like an archetype, like Ophelia and those of the ancient world where you
have those mad, raving women? That is a kind of
deep and complex, but perfect place to start, I think, for a discourse on
madness and gender because really what we're doing is we're looking at two categories
of mad women and two binary manifestations of madness. You have the side of rage,
and you have the side of violence and and wrath and really fear-inducing figures that
leave a kind of scar of terror, but also absolute fascination in the imagination.
Then you have the haunting as the poem that you opened with, so
aptly depicts this haunting figure of the depressive, the one who slips away
into nothingness in response to the maddening circumstances rather than
being incited into a rampage. I think the way that you are dividing this between
the ancients and the moderns is one way to look at it, the other way to look at it is that
the reason that our modern world struggles so much with
gender and madness is because those two manifestations of madness have been
allocated along the gender binary as well, so one of the reasons it's been so
difficult historically to really treat and aid in
manifestations of madness is because they're instinctively
attached to correctness or incorrectness of sexuality, and so
there's been a bit of an admiration or let's say a fascination, a kind of
positive fascination in a way with the more masculine type of the manifestation of
madness that angry, violent, lashing out, and that's been pedestal in a sense
and in the way that our stories uphold those figures
despite often their punishment and their own storylines, and then there's the
more effeminate side of depression, and whenever someone who is along the
masculine side of that gender binary manifests the more
effeminate version of that madness that's not great in a patriarchal society obviously
to be classified along the effeminate side, so what you've opened up here with a
bunch of these early evocative archetypes is it's complicated from the get-go,
but for some reason women characters are always going to be the ones
showing us the different options for the manifestations of madness, and that's
what I find to be really fascinating.
Can you give an example of how things get confused when you have a male
depression that takes on what was conventionally considered
effeminate characteristics? Yeah there are obviously cultural codes across
history that allow for different behaviors along the
different lines of the gender binary, but the one that starts to influence
or that starts to influence my research in particular was thinking about
shell shock and thinking about people coming back from experiences with warfare
combat in the first world war particularly in the great war yeah, and the
overwhelming evidence that there was something going on here, and it being
buried very actively in a way trying to cure it through
more combat putting people back on the lines back in contact with these
hyper masculine considered activities, and then really not wanting to face
the aftermath of the psychological damage that was going on, so
what we get much much much later in the 20th century
with the Vietnam War really is a reckoning with people coming back from
combat and saying my mind is still there, and it happened to be a
cultural moment in which society was ready to to confront
something such as PTSD, and so retrospectively we've been able to do a lot of
considering of what firmer generations were seeing and calling by something
some other name, but definitely gender and madness in terms of battle
and hand-to-hand comment and violent altercation, it's a very thorny and
deeply culturally rooted topic.
There was outright condemnation of people who suffered shell shock after the
first world war or during the first world war, and they were considered cowards
and or effeminate, and not word emasculated indeed, but the phenomenon was so
undeniable and widespread that I think it caused at least some
psychologists Freud included to begin to investigate
you know what kind of disorder, what kind of wounds trauma
cannot actually inflict on a subject.
Absolutely, I think that's really the turning point that my research hit upon,
which was it turned from a project on madness into a project on
woundedness by way of research into trauma, and it was an undeniable move
because when I read a work by Judith Hermann, trauma and recovery,
in which she really points out the fact that there are forms of trauma
in the world that are publicly accepted as traumatic,
and war is one of them, you know, and so Freud, as you mentioned,
witnessing this widespread experience that's an undeniable thing that these
people are going through, and then also witnessing
the personal aftermath of this more collective experience
was able to connect the dots, but Freud witnessed another
instance of widespread psychological aftermath,
and in Judith Hermann's analysis of what Freud does when confronted with
claims of child abuse and incest and molestation,
Hermann points out that he did not make the same
strong courageous connection between a collective social experience,
an interpersonal experience of trauma, and the validation of the claims of these
people who are experiencing PTSD, and that takes
decades, it takes decades and it takes feminist movements way later in the
20th century in order to validate, and that's why I became so fascinated with the
hysteric.
Well, you're pointing there to something, maybe I can clarify a little bit for
our listeners about this rather controversial move that Freud decided
to commit himself to from his early analysis of female hysteria,
as having its roots in real sexual abuse in childhood
by older father figures, if not the father, uncles, older brothers, one way or another,
a real social event, as opposed to his shift by putting all the
etiology of female hysteria in the psyche and in the realm of the fantasy
of the false memory of women, and I remember when I was a graduate student,
they're in the 80s of this book by, I think I don't remember his name, even
Mason or Masan, who wrote a book called The Suppression of the Seduction
Theory in Freud, in which he took Freud to task for displacing the etiology from the real world
of real trauma into a merely fantasy life.
And as a result, I think that you were suggesting that Freud did not want to
accord the same sort of reality to trauma in the case of
women who had been perhaps indeed sexually abused in their youth, as he
was willing to do so in the case of soldiers suffering shelter.
Yeah, I wouldn't put all the onus on Freud honestly, because
if you think of the scope of what he was encountering in terms of claims and what he
would have had to put forth and support, of course,
he did have the potential he did have the studies, the interactions with the
patients, and also perhaps most importantly, especially according to
contemporary day, workers in psychology, he had the
responsibility and the trust of these women who were sharing their stories and
believing that he would believe them. But to make that claim and to support
that explanation would have been as it is today, world-rending.
In fact, that's the thesis of that book about The Suppression is that he
realized that if psychoanalysis was going to be accepted in the Vienna
of his day and age, it was not going to be accepted if you were
exposing a scandal, actual widespread prevalent sexual abuse in the bourgeois
families of Europe, and therefore it was the way of domesticating the whole
phenomenon by putting into the psyche. And how ironic, right, that someone who had
the capacity to really open up that world and in the heyday of
hysteria ends up reenacting the exact same diagnosis which we're getting
all the way from the Greeks, which is there's a wandering uterus here
in raging this woman and driving her completely out of control of her
husband of her community, of her family and of herself,
and what's our solution? heterosexual sex and pregnancy.
We need to root that uterus back where it belongs, and we're getting diagnoses
such as these passed along from Western culture to Western culture
across the centuries, and there it is yet again in Freud's Vienna.
I find that to be really telling. So we go from there's three words in play
madness, then trauma, as you said, you started investigating trauma, and then
you realize that maybe trauma is not specific enough, and the word that you
have in the title of your dissertation is woundedness. It might not be as
elegant as madness or trauma, but the word itself is wounded as
woundedness. Would you say just to conclude on the Freud that Freud was
he lighting the woundedness, namely the real wounds that provoked hysteria among
the women's ass? That's exactly what I was hoping to say with that word choice,
yeah, and the word itself as you say it lacks all elegance,
it lacks the same sense of category in a way, and that's what I wanted. I wanted
a word that would point a finger at the fact that there's something really
urgent and physically present about each of the stories I was going to look into.
Right, in which way did your work follow in the line of the feminist
scholarship that was investigating these phenomena and
directions that you felt needed correction somewhat, right? Yeah, it's kind of
an interesting two arrow pointing towards the second wave feminists in the one
hand from the beginning of the 20th century pointing towards these feminist
scholars in the 80s mostly who are going to go back and re-examine the texts
from the early 20th century from the late 19th and the early 20th century and say
look at how symptomatic these texts are of their cultural media,
look at how much the historical woman is actually constituting
the center of signification. Which texts are you referring to here? So I'm
speaking of things like Madame Boverer, you know, the classics with this crazy
women at the center.
Train there. Exactly, exactly. And also a bunch of the
decadence really looking at someone like Barbara Spackman who takes a really
good hard look at these decadent writers and
took a look at didn't see all and says these texts have nothing at their
center without the sense of malady attached to femininity. And by
looking at the way these feminist scholars were doing a somewhat
cycle analytical but also a social critical
re-reading of these early texts I was very inspired.
On the other hand, I was inspired by the fact that these
feminist literary scholars were doing something that today's
psychologists and critical literary scholars were not as much doing, which is
being activists. They were really interested in saying
"No, I'm not at all a neutral reader. I am very much a part of a consciousness
raising circle. I'm very much a part of a movement to improve the justice of the
sexual order that we have around us in terms of employment, just as they
talk in all of their introductions to their books and their conclusions and
their acknowledgements about how important their own personal experiences
were in reading books in a certain way. And I found that to be exactly where I
wanted to go with my investigation. It's not neutral. And
and yet at the same time it was a very, very careful look at what the
texts were saying both about their own economy and about the way these
figures were being inherited and then passed along to a new generation of
literature that would be the post World War One era that I was looking at.
At the same time, Maria, there's this sense that we're still stuck in the
world of literature, namely the world of the imagination and
characters who don't have measure of reality.
As opposed to a woundedness which is not a literary phenomenon
only, it's represented in literature but that there is still to this day
perhaps even more today than ever when I read the newspapers on a daily basis,
not only in the US but also in Europe and Italy a lot,
the systematic abuse and wounds that women of all ages are subjected to in
which was society. It's not just literary characters who are susceptible
to this phenomenon of...
You mean patriarchy? Well I think the patriarchy is the
framework within which all this abuse takes place. So I'm just curious where
it stands in your mind this distinction between
literary history and the role of women in literary history
we're talking about fictional characters and then you were referring to the
activism of these feminist scholars. We're still committed to trying to
change structures within the real world that would either improve
the conditions that led to neurosis or involved with something else.
I'm just not sure how you understand that relationship between the real
and fictional. I want to keep all my my parts in order here but
the primary statement in response to that is that as a literary scholar
following in the footsteps or attempting to learn from the work of these
other feminist literary scholars, I think there's an underlying belief
that stories and representations of experiences
have concrete impacts on the lives of real people
and especially when we consider the strength with which we've inherited certain
stories and figures, the strength with which they permeate
our cultural understanding of the world we live in and the difficulty of
either uprooting them or adjusting them in some way.
I'm still debating with myself whether we ever really can,
even modify the stories that we inherit, let alone get rid of them.
There was something in approaching these representations that I thought
it was in direct, let's say direct attack on that kind of relationship.
The fact that the stories that we tell about our world
do impact our world on the other hand.
But what advice the verse is too, no?
Absolutely, the world we live in breeds and the
the stories we tell emerge from the world we live in. Yes, it's definitely a
two-way street but the other side of the coin is that
these instances that literature is so capable of
recounting. These, let's say, close studies or case studies, this
intentional deep dive into the intricacies and the details and the
circumstances of singular lives is exactly what we need
in order to push back against the generalizing gesture of
attaching madness to femininity and just letting the story end there.
But would these stories have to be written by women?
Authors. No, absolutely not. So my understanding is that you read my
number of aheen, you say, well, this is a male's
representation of a woman who might have inclinations towards this madness
and therefore it has to be rewritten and
reconceived and recast because it's not an author who is speaking from
within the experience of it. So let me clarify one of the things I found so
inspirational about these literary critics, those Naomi Shor or Janet
Bizer or also Christina Matsoni is among them that are working with French
Natalyan texts is that they weren't actually out to
denigrate or denounce these male writers as doing something
wrong or being simple misogynists who we never needed to pay attention to again.
They were pointing out the features of the literature that we love
that were also helpful in unearthing the aspects of our society that we don't
love. So it's not that the men are doing it wrong,
it's that there's a whole discourse on who has access to literary
prominence and that's a separate discourse, right? That
is an entirely separate can of worms of patriarchy and
the economy of literary markets. But what they're looking at instead is
these are great books, they're doing certain things. The stories are also
telling us certain things about how women are in the world and then if we
also start to pry open the specificities of their conclusions, they're either
going to end up dead, pregnant and married happily that way that way they're
tucked away or in extreme cases of subversion
mad and they found that to be fascinating, right? They thought that these male
authors were actually showing us something about trends in the world
and about what we find fascinating in literature as readers across centuries.
I wanted to ask a question about opera. I've said it and people get annoyed when I
say that I'm opera phobic precisely because I find that so much of
opera is at the pitch of hysteria, whether it's a male voice or a female
voice. It's always this operatic drama where you're at the edge of
madness. How much of your experience in your training as an opera singer
nourished your fascination with that kind of edge at which sanity is
threatened to plunge into insanity. So much, so so much. And maybe it's not the
reason you would assume but behind the scenes of the experience of singing opera
is the pleasure of walking the line of the crack. And I mean perhaps the most
commonly recognizable manifestation of this is Paparazzi who cracked on his
high notes almost as frequently as he nailed them and held them for eternity,
right? And that quivering between total downfall and disaster and just nailing
something absolutely divine is the generative force of live opera. But for the
one who's doing it, it's the sensation of being in front of a crowd
equally ready to do something that no one else in the room can do and
wants to see you do and something that will absolutely tarnish your image
as a divinity of song. So that's the one side of it. The other side is that
mad scenes have been the center of stage art for centuries, especially when you go
back to the origin of the female diva, who the mad scenes had almost nothing to do
with the plot. But they were written in there for the express purpose of being
able to tear at one's clothes and sing really high and do a lot of movement
with the voice. And so that kind of eccentricity, the idea that opera makes space for
at the center of its spectacle, the wildness and the exactly the hysterical
pitch of the portrayal of madness has always been really captivating to me
by think because as one who performs it, you have the sense of control.
Instead of the sense of that wildness, opera is putting on for its public
absolutely controlled, uncontrolled. And this makes me think of I've written about rituals of
mourning and grieving. I know that you're familiar with some of that work of at the voice of grief.
We're talking about trauma. The loss of a loved one, a very important loved one. It could be
the father of the husband where traditionally there was a complete loss of emotional control and
a risk of descending into at least momentary madness with grief, pulling of one's hair. My sort of
thinking about it, let me conclude that a lot of the highly ritualized protocols for grief,
which enact the scene of uncontrolled emotion, the beating of the rest, the pulling of the hair,
the scratching of the face, all these behaviors that you find as far back as Homer and his
characters, Achilles, and when he loses botropolis and so forth, and that you have still today in professional
limitations in Southern Italy, for example, that that is a highly choreographed enactment
of grief in order to protect oneself somewhat from the crazy spontaneity of despair and threat of
madness. Yes, I mean, I couldn't agree more with the idea that the simple understanding of the fact
that something is staged does not negate the power of its enactment. And I think that that
we see that in a Farontin novel with the figure of La Pouverreit, who is this woman who is left by her
husband, and then she's just known for the rest of her existence, literally, as the woman who ends
up killing herself out of despair for the fact that she's been completely abandoned and her entire
sense of self-worth and really purpose is taken away from her along with the fact that her husband leaves.
But the way that that figure is employed in a novelistic setting is ritual. It's a point of
reference. It's a point of reflection of one's own experiences and feelings. And so I think
there's something in our discussion about opera as well about, and yet, even if we know that this
is all being put on, you know, at the pitch of hysteria, we are still in the space with sound vibrations
that are far higher and far faster and far more intense than what you experience in your daily life.
Well, hopefully you're not experiencing that level of screaming in your daily life. But
and it does something to you physically. It does something to you orally. I think that that
has a place in our world. Yeah, for sure. Yeah, in fact, being abandoned by a husband, there's
different ways of being abandoned. He can either leave you or he can die and vice versa. He throws
you into a crisis. So that's very good. In your dissertation, his titled "Woundedness and Reintegration"
and then the phenomenology and transmission of women's trauma in modern and contemporary Italy.
So first question, reintegration. What do you mean by that?
Question. So reintegration kind of comes from a youngie and sense of getting back in touch
in some way with these archetypical forces that can root or center a person's sense of wellness.
But I don't really go too deep into that in the space of the dissertation. Really, what I'm
mirroring in that title is due to the sermon. Again, the work, trauma and recovery. And Herman,
in the '92 is the first one who lays out a step-by-step process based on really extensive
qualitative studies of people's experience in therapy and in therapeutic settings that they can
actually move towards a world in which their trauma is no longer determining their physical
circumstances. And so what I wanted to do with the final portion of my project was focus on what
are Italian artists doing today that no one's done before in terms of depicting madness in women
and characters, but then also using the tools of their art form to propose some manner of
togetherness, some manner of betterment or process towards health. And then that was a really fun
portion of the investigation. How do they go about doing that? Because you mentioned therapy,
I tend to be skeptical about how much the talking cure can really do. And when you're talking about
profound wounds and trauma and just sitting on it, but it sounds like what you get in literature
is a different kind of therapy that reaches much deeper into the soul and somehow perhaps if I
understand you correctly makes you feel that you're not alone in your own election. Yeah, the first step
in writing about this and thinking about it was to recognize that stories that simply offer
the ophilia-style ending are not really making you feel like your story has a scope of transcendence
or recovery. And it really encourages in a way, it depends on the reader that you are, I think, but
a certain way it encourages the centering of the experience of death and hopelessness as the story's
end. So that becomes kind of a cyclical experience of despair. The novels that I wanted to focus on
were ones that addressed a particular interest of mine, which is what do we do about matricide?
In the context of women and madness, there is such a contentious debate about the importance of
having negated for so long the goddess, having negated for so long the importance of the mother,
and having foregrounded for so much of the 20th century things like penis envy or things like
the fact that all ailments that women are complaining about are rooted in their own femininity,
and therefore there is no way of finding solace or connection in the mother, and actually it's
the killing off of the mother that allows the young woman to step into the role of being a man's new
partner, all of the damage that those complex standards are setting out needs in some way to be
rectified. And the way I wanted to go about looking at that rectification is by looking for stories that
did something else. And so I studied stories in which daughters are narrating and they're looking at
the wounded bodies of their mothers, taking over and this connects directly to what you were
talking about earlier about rituals of mourning. It's not about the mother not dying, it's about
realizing the physicality and the particular woundedness of the mother in proximity, physical proximity
to the daughter, having no one else in that space. And there are an impressive number of 20th
century novels that do just that. They stage an encounter between the maturing daughter and the
wounded body of her mother. And there's something incredibly therapeutic about those scenes. It's
not denying in any way the experience of suffering of any of the characters. It's actually four
grounding it. And then making a literary space in which nothing about a woman and man relationship
matters in any way. And the thing that is centered is the recuperative dignified acknowledgement
of the bodily similarity between the two women in the room. And that was really an amazing
these kind of confrontations are frequent in Italian literature. I don't know about frequent. I mean,
I have a unique canon. But I think what's interesting about them is that they are present in the
most prominent novels by women from the Italian 20th century. And that is worth noticing, right?
These aren't obscure novels. Are these confrontations between daughter and mother benign? Because
I know. Here's another question they're not because why is the mother-daughter relationship so
difficult, so filled with sometimes self-destructive mutual accusation?
That's a huge question. I mean, part of it is what I was just referencing earlier in the
in terms of the way patriarchy really punishes bonds between women that are not existing in a more
submissive way either solely for the purpose of assisting each other and maintaining the domestic
space or passing from the role of innocent, virginal daughter directly into the role of pregnant wife.
And there's really no socially sanctioned safe space for the mother-daughter relationship to develop
outside of those dynamics. These are generalizations, obviously. But what novels start to explore
or even perhaps just narrate more of, especially Italian novels in the 20th century,
because of the unique way that Italy goes through the post-World War II years is the multitude of
ways in which young women are living things like companionship, things like work, things like sexuality,
things like relationships with their mothers. And so the Italian feminists of the 70s and 80s
and into the 90s are really acutely aware of the need to reshape or at least re-theorize
this relationship with the mother away from all of that negative history that it's accumulated.
And that's where they're very inspirational to me. That negative history also takes the form
not only in literature, Italian literature, but also in relations within the family where
the daughter does not want to become what the mother has become out by virtue of her having been
the victim of a patriarchy that has in a sense led her into an impasse and a condition of
impotence and this desperate desire to avoid the fate of the mother, I think, creates a lot of
antagonism in that relation sometimes. Yeah, there's the saying legato la proprécatina,
so tying the daughter to the mother's own chain, which I think breeds resentment on both sides,
obviously. So if listeners are intrigued enough to want to read a few of these novels that you
have in mind, are there any titles that you would be able to offer that be available in English?
Yeah, actually, it's very exciting. The central novel that I explore in kind of the second phase of
my research is called "Mensonie sortilejo," which is by Elsa Morante and previously I would not have
recommended it to English reading listeners, but we have been treated to a brand new translation
in English this summer. And so it's now out as lies and sorcery. It's quite a volume,
it's a big one, but it is one of the most remarkable novels of the 20th century bar none,
and I highly recommend that Morante is also cited as being the grandmother, let's say, of
Italian contemporary literature, and she's a huge influence on the globally popular Elena Ferrante,
who is also one of the figures that I study in this project. I also would recommend the
novels of Goliarda Sapiense, she's difficult to categorize, but she has an incredibly distinct
voice, and a lot of her writing is semi autobiographical. You can't go wrong with Sapiense, for sure.
Sapiense is a translated English. Most of it. As Sapiense.
No, that's the author's name, Goliarda Sapiense. The primary novel would be the art of joy.
The art of joy was completely ignored in Italy when it came out, and then the French picked it up
several decades later, and since then it's had a real boom. So she's writing in the 60s and 70s,
and then it's not until the early 2000s that she really comes into prominence, but the art of joy
is another spectacular novel. And then the final section of my study of recovery is more about cinema,
believe it or not. I take a look at contemporary Italian film building off of this idea that
motherhood needs a good look. It needs a whole new set of depictions. Great. Yeah, lies in
sorcery, the art of joy, and then probably the days of abandonment by Elena Ferrante is when I go into
a lot in my studies. In addition to other books of first, right? Of course, yeah. Fantastic. We've been
speaking with Maria Masuko, who is a PhD graduate from our own department of Italian studies here
at Stanford, and who is now teaching literature at Sacred Heart and Menlo Park,
Atherton. So we're delighted you're still in the area and part of our ongoing community here.
I began by making some comments about Ophelia, so I think I'm going to end with a song called Ophelia,
that reprises many of the things we've been talking about, Maria. So thanks again for coming on to
entitled opinions. Thanks so much for having me, Robert. It's been a joy. Take care.
Good night, sweet ladies, good night. I trust you enjoy the fight.
My father's got a mission and the boy I've been kissing is the one who put out his legs.
They told me that you were unkind, let you thought the whole world was blind.
There was all that chatter that your man has had. Now it's me who's losing my mind.
I'm not a kid, you deserve it. When she wrote a thing, you're hungry. I'm still in the stars. I'm not killing you.
(somber music)
[Music]
You put this hand, which he wrote to me.
You hold your hand, now still this hand.
I'm kidding.
[Music]