Wicked Abilities A Johanna Mason Mix
1. The Killing Moon Echo And The BunnymenUnder blue moon I saw you, so soon you’ll take me
up in your arms—too late to beg you or cancel it though
I know it must be the killing time, unwillingly mine.
2. Y Control Yeah Yeah YeahsOh so while you’re growing old, under the gun, gun, gun,
and I believe them all, well, I’m just one poor baby
cause, well, I believe them all.
I wish I could buy back the woman you stole.
3. Welcome To The Jungle The ThroneI asked her where she wanna be when she 25.
She turned around and looked at me and she said, “alive.”
I’m losing myself, I’m stuck in the moment.
I look in the mirror: my only opponent.
No crying in public, just lying to judges.
Risking my life, I’m already dying so fuck it, well.
4. Wild CharmsTo she who played concertos foul and black
on my heartstrings and never looked back.
What became of those wild charms?
How it stirs me now, to think my fire burnt them out.
5. Who The Fuck PJ HarveyWho the fuck do you think you are? Get out of my hair.
I’m not like other girls, you can’t straighten my curls.
I’m free, you’ll see. I’m me, you’ll see.
6. When Was I Last Home The DøWhite and grey stones lying lazy in the flickering water.
White and grey stones, soft and shy like home-baked bread.
Warmest mouthful, let me have just a taste.
When was I last home?
White and grey stones, if I find bones along my way
I might feel a little less alone, not so blue.
7. Declare Independence BjörkDeclare independence, don’t let them do that to you.
Make your own flag. Raise your flag.
8. Have You Forgotten Jenny Owen Youngs (Red House Painters cover)Nobody’s nice, when you’re older your heart turns to ice.
Shut out what they say, they’re too dumb to mean it anyway.
When we were kids we hated things our sisters did.
Backyard summer pools and Christmases were beautiful.
Have you forgotten how to love yourself?
Badger’s Hunger Games dreamcast - Britne Oldford as Johanna Mason
Johanna wanted the morphine, but it wasn’t so much to dull the pain. It was the only time she ever dreamed of home, her mind free enough to let her back into the forests of 7. She would skim her fingers over the tops of leaves, kick dirt with her feet, smile up at the canopy of green blocking the sky. Nothing sterile, nothing silver or clean. Just woods, filling her eyes with green. When she woke up in the morning, she always smelled pine. An addiction was worth it, she thought, when she got to go home.
“Is that why you hate me?” I ask.
“Partly,” she admits. “Jealousy is certainly involved. I also think you’re a little hard to swallow. With your tacky romantic drama and your defender-of-the-helpless act. Only it isn’t an act, which makes you more unbearable. Please feel free to take this personally.”