Lyrics suchen

Ww Ww - Aloft Awaiting (Affairs Of Heirs) text lyrics

Sprache: 
Künstler: 
Ww Ww - Aloft Awaiting (Affairs Of Heirs) auf Amazon
Ww Ww - Aloft Awaiting (Affairs Of Heirs) Auf YouTube ansehen
Ww Ww - Aloft Awaiting (Affairs Of Heirs) Hören Sie auf Soundcloud
Ww Ww - Aloft Awaiting (Affairs Of Heirs) mp3 download kostenlos

Aloft Awaiting (Affairs Of Heirs)

They circle about continuously
Watching the carcass decay
Awaiting the eventual demise
Grabbing up whatever they can
Each abiding their own time
 
So each day passing by
Wishing and waiting, hoping
One by one the ritual goes on
Feeding frenzy found frequent*
Every falling, an opponent done
 
Until the last one circles alone
Awaiting the final result
The great prize for predation
A world without concerns
Alone, empty, and waning
 

Mehr text lyrics Von diesem künstler: Ww Ww


Mit den symbolen auf der rechten seitenleiste können Sie oder online ansehen Aloft Awaiting (Affairs Of Heirs) musik oder CD.

Wenn Sie diese Musik herunterladen möchten, können Sie in der rechten Seitenleiste auf das mp3-Symbol klicken.


Verwendung für persönliche oder Bildung. Ww Ww text lyrics copyright ist der Besitzer dieses Liedes.



Mehr text lyrics

Dying Words

Dort wo die Nacht kein morgen kennt
Vermiss ich dich
Wo mein Herz für immer brennt
Verlierst du mich
Wenn mein Engel meinen Namen nennt
Ich halt noch immer deine Hand
Es ist vollbracht
Dein letzte Schwur ist eingebrannt
Und keine Macht
Holt dich zurück, denn wir sind verdammt
Doch unser Licht zerbricht die Dunkelheit
Weil jedes Wort von dir für ewig bleibt
 
I still hear your dying words
'Come with me'
And still deep inside it burns
'Follow me through the raging flames
Where we will feel no pain'
I want to die
Each time it hurts
I hear your dying words
 
Wo meine Seele einsam weint
Such ich dich
Hier wo die Sonne nie mehr scheint
Verfolgst du mich
Wir sind vereint im Schutz der Dunkelheit
Mit den Wolken zieh'n die Schatten auf
Wenn ich dein Herz mit meinen Tränen tauf
 
I still hear your dying words
'Come with me'
And still deep inside it burns
'Follow me through the raging flames
Where we will feel no pain'
I want to die
Each time it hurts
I hear your dying words
 

1st Person

Why is everything so grey, is everything so strange,
Is everything so thrown together by mistake?
Why is everything contrite, is everything a plight,
Is everything so insincere and out of sight?
 
Why does everything seem wrong,
Does everything look drawn,
Does everything seem blasted like it don't belong?
 
I wanna make it a way
I wanna make it a waste
I wanna make it a gross misadventure
I wanna make you all
I wanna make you all
I wanna make you lie to me, lie to me
 
When did everything go bad, did everything fall flat,
Did everything decay and lose itself so fast?
When did everything succumb, did everything go numb,
Did everything lobotomize what it's become?
 
When does everything come back,
Does everything relapse,
Does everything save face and find itself at last?
 
I, I wanna show you the way
I wanna show you the waste
I wanna show you the worst misadventure
I wanna show you all
I wanna show you all
I wanna show you how to die for me, die for me
 
I wanna give it a way
I wanna give it the waste
I wanna give it the worst misadventure
I wanna give it all
I'm gonna give it all
I'll never give up
Lie to me, die for me
 
Now everything's a lie, everything's your lie
Everything's a face inside another lie
Now everything's a side, everything's one side
Everything depends on just which side you're on
 

Beat! Beat! Drums!

Beat! beat! drums!—blow! bugles! blow!
Through the windows—through doors—burst like a ruthless force,
Into the solemn church, and scatter the congregation,
Into the school where the scholar is studying,
Leave not the bridegroom quiet—no happiness must he have now with his bride,
Nor the peaceful farmer any peace, ploughing his field or gathering his grain,
So fierce you whirr and pound you drums—so shrill you bugles blow.
 
Beat! beat! drums!—blow! bugles! blow!
Over the traffic of cities—over the rumble of wheels in the streets;
Are beds prepared for sleepers at night in the houses? no sleepers must sleep in those beds,
No bargainers’ bargains by day—no brokers or speculators—would they continue?
Would the talkers be talking? would the singer attempt to sing?
Would the lawyer rise in the court to state his case before the judge?
Then rattle quicker, heavier drums—you bugles wilder blow.
 
Beat! beat! drums!—blow! bugles! blow!
Make no parley—stop for no expostulation,
Mind not the timid—mind not the weeper or prayer,
Mind not the old man beseeching the young man,
Let not the child’s voice be heard, nor the mother’s entreaties,
Make even the trestles to shake the dead where they lie awaiting the hearses,
So strong you thump O terrible drums—so loud you bugles blow.
 

The Armful

For every parcel I stoop down to seize
I lose some other off my arms and knees,
And the whole pile is slipping, bottles, buns --
Extremes too hard to comprehend at once,
Yet nothing I should care to leave behind.
With all I have to hold with hand and mind
And heart, if need be, I will do my best
To keep their building balanced at my breast.
I crouch down to prevent them as they fall;
Then sit down in the middle of them all.
I had to drop the armful in the road
And try to stack them in a better load.