Jones The Rhythm

Rhythm is both the song's manacle and its demonic charge. It is the original breath, it is the whisper of unremitting demand. "What do you still want from me?" says the singer. "What do you think you can still draw from my lips?" Exact presence that no fantasy can represent. Purveyor of the oldest secret, alive with the blood that boils again, and is pulsing where the rhythm is torn apart. How your singer's blood is incensed at the depth of sound. Lacerations echo in the mouth's open erotic sky where dance together the lost frenzies of rhythm and an imploring immobility. Ladies and gentlemen, Miss Grace Jones. Jones the Rhythm

Slave!

Slave to the rhythm

Dance to the rhythm

Axe to wood in ancient times

Man machine, production line

The fire burns, with heartbeats strong

Sing out loud, the chain gang song

Never stop the action

Keep it up, keep it up

Never stop the action

Keep it up, keep it up

Slave to the rhythm

Dance to the rhythm

The master... never stop[Bridge: Grace Jones]

Never stop the action, keep it up

Never stop the action

Keep it up, keep it up

Slave to the rhythm, work to the rhythm

Dance to the rhythm, live to the rhythm

Slave to the rhythm

Dance to the rhythm, live to the rhythm

Slave to the rhythm, work...to the rhythm

To the rhythm, work to the rhythm, to the rhythm

Slave, slave

To the rhythm, to the rhythm, to the rhythm

Oh, that's weird...

Grace Jones, welcome

Thank you Paul

And if you're wondering what's wrong with my voice, I just choked on my saliva

So…

Now obviously you're in the Bond movie-