This week I have chosen the lyrics to Sting’s song “Shape of My Heart”.
He deals the cards to find the answer
Sting (1951—) and Dominic Miller (1960—)
The sacred geometry of chance
The hidden law of a probable outcome
The numbers lead a dance
Poem 331. Shape of My Heart
He deals the cards as a meditation
And those he plays never suspect
He doesn’t play for the money he wins
He don’t play for respect
He deals the cards to find the answer
The sacred geometry of chance
The hidden law of a probable outcome
The numbers lead a dance
I know that the spades are the swords of a soldier
I know that the clubs are weapons of war
I know that diamonds mean money for this art
But that’s not the shape of my heart
He may play the jack of diamonds
He may lay the queen of spades
He may conceal a king in his hand
While a memory of it fades
I know that the spades are the swords of a soldier
I know that the clubs are weapons of war
I know that diamonds mean money for this art
But that’s not the shape of my heart
That’s not the shape, shape of my heart
And if I told you that I loved you
You’d maybe think there’s something wrong
I’m not a man of too many faces
The mask I wear is one
But those who speak know nothing
And find out to their cost
Like those who curse their luck in too many places
And those who fear are lost
I know that the spades are the swords of a soldier
I know that the clubs are weapons of war
I know that diamonds mean money for this art
But that’s not the shape of my heart
That’s not the shape of my heart
That’s not the shape, the shape of my heart
According to Sting (via Wikipedia) this song tells the story of a gambler who gambles to discover some kind of logic or law in the operations of chance.
The first verse shows the gambler playing cards but not with the intention of winning money or the respect of the other players. “He deals the cards as a meditation” suggests that he is treating the outward appearances of the game as something abstract, a pattern that allows him to concentrate on its deeper structure. Like any good card player, he keeps his motivations and emotions to himself (“those he plays never suspect”), allowing others to believe what they like of him.
The second verse develops this idea: he is looking for the key to the conundrum that absorbs him: a hunt for the “sacred geometry”, the “hidden law” that determines the outcome of the game. The probabilities dance through his brain as he strives to assess them and assign them to a root cause.
The chorus enumerates the suits of the cards: spades and clubs representing weapons and diamonds the reward for the art of playing well, but that isn’t his motivation.
The third verse shows the outward gambler laying down cards or concealing them for the time being so that they may prove potent when others have forgotten their presence (possibly a reference to card counters who keep a mental note of the cards played and those yet to appear) but as the repeated chorus says, it isn’t about the money he wins, it’s understanding of the pattern he sees in his mind’s eye that he craves.
The fourth verse hints that the gambler is solitary, unsociable perhaps so that any profession of love on his part would be entirely out of character, though he’s not misogynistic as much as he is indifferent to others. He isn’t “a man of too many faces”—he finds it difficult to fit in with the crowd—his face is just a mask that hides his real nature.
In the final verse, he derides those who criticise or praise his actions—their supposed knowledge is false, and they soon discover their mistake has led them to ruin, just as those that suppose that their ill luck is a function of his success and those that fear to contend with him.
The song plays over the end credits of the film Léon and its lyrics reflect the slightly otherworldy nature of its protagonist, the isolated and detached hitman who seems to do his bloody work without desire for “the money it brings” or any animus against those who are his targets.
I like it because it is a haunting song, because Léon is one of my favourite films and because the lyrics are mysterious: like de la Mare’s The Listeners, we see only a snapshot from a larger story.