I could escape this feeling
With my China girl
I'm just a wreck without
My little China girl
I'd hear hearts beating
Loud as thunder
See the stars crashing
I'm a mess without
My China girl
Wake up mornings there's
No China girl
I'd hear hearts beating
Loud as thunder
I'd see the stars crashing down
I'd feel tragic
Like I was Marlon Brando
When I'd look at my China girl
I could pretend that nothing
Really meant too much
When I'd look at my China girl
I'd stumble into town
Just like a sacred cow
Visions of swastikas in my head
And plans for everyone
Its in the white of my eyes
My little China girl
You shouldnt mess with me
I'll ruin everything you are
I'll give you television
I'll give you eyes of blue
I'll give you men who want
To rule the world
And when I get excited
My little China girl says
Oh Jimmy just you
Shut your mouth
She says shhhh...

In the lives of emperors there is a moment which follows pride in the boundless extension of the territories we have conquered, and the melancholy and relief of knowing we shall soon give up any thought of knowing or understanding them. There is a sense of emptiness that comes over us at evening, with the odor of the elephants after the rain and sandalwood ashes growing cold in the braziers, a dizziness that makes rivers and mountains tremble on the fallow curves of the planispheres where they are portrayed, and rolls up, one after the other, the despatches announcing to us the collapse of enemy troops, from defeat to defeat, and flakes the wax of the seals of obscure kings who beseech our armies' protection, offering in exchange the annual tributes of precious metals, tanned hides, and tortoise shell. It is the desperate moment when we discover that this empire, which had seemed to us the sum of all wonders, is an endless, formless ruin, that corruption's gangrene has spread too far to be healed by our scepter, that the triumph over enemy sovereigns has made us the heirs of their long undoing.

~datagram