Madeleine Lyrics: Henry Biggs Music: Henry Biggs and Mylene Farmer All alone in a park on a bench in the dark gone to the wind to the rain not a spark of life flickers from these eyes, these eyes memories of innocence caked and pasted with lies nothing brings me back to innocence any more except you my little whore vacant and worn in you she comes back and I'm safe and warm tasting you I'm back again dipped in sin, sweet Madeleine REFRAIN Madeleine (Turn me on) (repeat) Madeleine to lick your skin is to take a trip to way back when to love-to love the stuff that dreams of love are made of to her, to a smile, to stare, a caress to a future hoped for, hoped for yes and in you she's before me in you sultry silky in you lips run o'er me in you soft and milky tasting you I'm back again dipped in sin, sweet Madeleine REFRAIN Madeleine it never lasts the present past is passing fast staring desperately at the peeling ceiling I try to guard that fleeting feeling but it fades and jades and withering blooms eroding back to this festering room over, done, I pay, I go and wander back down through the streets below aimlessly back to a bench in a park I plant myself alone in the dark but tasting you, I'll be back again sweet Madeleine REFRAIN

The Idea. . . ...She sent out for one of those short, plump little cakes called 'petites madeleines,' which look as though they had been moulded in the fluted scallop of a pilgrim's shell. And soon, mechanically, weary after a dull day with the prospect of a depressing morrow, I raised to my lips a spoonful of the tea in which I had soaked a morsel of the cake. No sooner had the warm liquid, and the crumbs with it, touched my palate than a shudder ran through my whole body, and I stopped, intent upon the extraordinary changes that were taking place. An exquisite pleasure had invaded my senses, but individual, detached, with no suggestion of its origin. And at once the vicissitudes of life had become indiferent to me, its disasters innocuous, its brevity illusory-this new sensation having had on me the effect which love has of filling me with a precious essence; or rather this essence was not in me, it was myself. I had ceased now to feel medioucre, accidental, mortal. Whence could it have come to me, this all-powerful joy? Proust, Swann's Way trans. C.K. Scott Moncrieff, The Modern Library, New York.P. 62 Explanation: In this excerpt Proust describes the ability of the taste of a cookie, a madeleine, to invoke involuntary memory. Headmess draws on Proust's "episode of the madeleine" and describes the subject's return to a girl he once loved through his experience with a prostitute named Madeleine. Madeleine charges his memories of a happier time--of a good relationship he had in the past. Just as Proust's madeleine is dipped in tea, Headmess's Madeleine is "dipped in sin." Confused? Click here to send in your questions.