Six days ago, Lana Del Rey released her newest song.
I’ve been tearing around in my fucking night gown 2/47 Sylvia Plath
It’s a sheer, luminous ballad with her perfect voice echoing in a wash over barely-there piano chords.
Writing in blood on the walls ’cause the ink in my pen don’t work in my notepad
The sparse, elegiac lyrics pierce the hard shell I require in place in order to function at the moment.
Don’t ask if I’m happy, you know that I’m not but at best I can say I’m not sad
But they can’t crack it.
‘Cause hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have
Hope is a dangerous thing for a woman with my past
A friend remixed it into a deeper orchestral version with a percussion beat. A feeling of foreboding in the verses is emphasised by the addition of cuts from Marilyn Monroe’s last interview. A repeating piano melody makes melancholy look good.
‘Cause I’ve got monsters still under my bed that I could never fight off
This is the most extreme depression I’ve battled in some years. I am empty.
Hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have
But I have it
And yet, there is hope. Because history tells me it will pass.
If you want to listen to the original, here it is.