1. He and I are a pop… Read Full Bio ↴There are at least two artists with this name:
1. He and I are a pop/hip hop group feauring L-Ray (rapper /singer) and Linnea (singer), with rappers Radioaktive and 1 Son.
2. He And I are a young band from Berlin, Germany. At the moment there are two members, Sandro on a 12-string acoustic guitar and vocals and Stéphane on drums and cajon. The music of He And I can be described as an mixture of rock, pop, and folk rock made by acoustic instruments.
tango
He and I Lyrics
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As the strangle knot that she wears on her wrists.
The trunk preserves the new scent of the princess skin.
Disinfectant spit adding luster to chapped lips.
If she comes to, I'll tell her that she's beautiful.
All thses flies are gathered in admiration.
Perhaps we should offer them a new wound.
This isn't really happening.
Can't get the smell out, can't get the mascara off the apolstry.
Oh, this isn't really happening, this isn't really happening.
Still everyone keeps laughing at me.
Oh god, this is going to end badly.
If you don't wake up, I'll have to stop kissing you.
All that flailing has made you sleepy.
You rest while I untie you, wait here until they find you.
We've got some time before the reverie ends.
I've combed my hair, brought you your Sunday dress.
Tonight we'll magnetize the eyes of this whole town.
My hand made mannequin.
I won't let them get you.
They'll know you're mine by the fingerprints on your throat.
Isn't she lovely?
Isn't she wonderful?
Like the whores that we are, swatting flies from the wounds we design.
This is not about fear.
Paranoia is a disease of the unarmed.
This is beauty.
A sickening concern for the transience of flesh.
We keep our screams behind the gag.
I keep my baby's breath in a Glad bag.
The song "Tango" by He and I is a haunting and eerie ballad that deals with themes of obsession, possession, and violence. The opening lyrics describe the image of a woman being captured on camera, with a strangle knot on her wrists and a trunk preserving the scent of her skin. The use of language like "disinfectant spit" and "chapped lips" adds to the unsettling atmosphere of the song.
The chorus expresses a sense of disbelief, almost as if the singer cannot believe what is happening. There are flies gathered in admiration, and the suggestion of offering them a new wound adds to the disturbing imagery. The line "this isn't really happening" is repeated, almost like a mantra, as if the singer is trying to convince themselves that what they are doing is not real. The repeated line "can't get the smell out, can't get the mascara off the upholstery" adds to the sense of confusion and desperation.
The third verse is perhaps the most unsettling, as the singer speaks of "flailing" and "untying" the woman, almost as if she is a captive. The line "we've got some time before the reverie ends" suggests that they are living in a dreamlike state, and there is a sense of impending doom as the singer speaks of keeping the woman in their possession. The final lines of the song, "I keep my baby's breath in a Glad bag," is a disturbing image that adds to the overall sense of unease.
Line by Line Meaning
The amateur camera captures her motion perfectly.
She dances gracefully and the camera captures every detail of her movement with an endearing unprofessionalism.
As the strangle knot that she wears on her wrists.
The strangling sensation she feels inside, represented externally by the wrist restraints she has put on herself.
The trunk preserves the new scent of the princess skin.
The trunk, a symbol of nostalgic secrecy, preserves the fragrant memory of her lover’s youthful skin.
Disinfectant spit adding luster to chapped lips.
The toxic cleansing of emotions reflected by the image of a person treating chapped lips with disinfectant, to make them look more appealing.
If she comes to, I'll tell her that she's beautiful.
He waits for her to regain consciousness and lets her know how attractive she is.
All thses flies are gathered in admiration.
All the people who are drawn to watch her and revel in her beauty.
Perhaps we should offer them a new wound.
Let's give them something new to look at, something more exciting than just her beauty.
I think you're right, this isn't really happening.
He agrees that the situation doesn't feel real, but he's living in the moment nonetheless.
Can't get the smell out, can't get the mascara off the apolstry.
The memory of what happened lingers; no amount of cleaning can remove the scent and smeared makeup stains left behind.
Still everyone keeps laughing at me.
People continue to mock and ridicule him despite his attempts to move on from the past.
Oh god, this is going to end badly.
He realizes that something terrible is bound to happen and feels helpless to prevent it.
If you don't wake up, I'll have to stop kissing you.
He can no longer continue to kiss her if she doesn't wake up.
All that flailing has made you sleepy.
Her movements and struggle have exhausted her into unconsciousness.
You rest while I untie you, wait here until they find you.
He frees her from her restraints and tells her to stay put until someone comes to rescue her.
We've got some time before the reverie ends.
They have a moment of respite before the hallucination fades away.
I've combed my hair, brought you your Sunday dress.
He's taking care to present himself well and has brought her her best clothes to match.
Tonight we'll magnetize the eyes of this whole town.
They're going out to turn heads and be the center of attention for the evening.
My hand made mannequin.
She's his creation, his perfect puppet to be controlled at will.
I won't let them get you.
He'll protect her from anyone who tries to harm or take her away.
They'll know you're mine by the fingerprints on your throat.
He'll leave his mark on her in a way that can't be missed or undone.
Isn't she lovely?
He marvels at her beauty and wants everyone to see her and recognize how special she is.
Isn't she wonderful?
He's enamored by her and everything about her and feels the need to point it all out to others.
Like the whores that we are, swatting flies from the wounds we design.
They're getting pleasure from pain and creating their own wounds, enjoying the attention that comes with it.
This is not about fear.
This is not a story of fear, but a tale of two people driven by their obsessions.
Paranoia is a disease of the unarmed.
Only someone who's not careful enough can suffer from paranoia; they're so well-prepared that nothing can surprise them anymore.
This is beauty.
Their twisted relationship of pain and pleasure is something they find beautiful.
A sickening concern for the transience of flesh.
They're acutely aware of the fleeting nature of human life and form an unhealthy attachment to it.
We keep our screams behind the gag.
Their love is stifled and kept hidden behind the facades they create for each other.
I keep my baby's breath in a Glad bag.
A morbid memento of a life they've destroyed and the twisted love they have for it.
Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Written by: BUCKLEY, NOVAC, WILLIAMS
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind