歌曲 | Dreams And Pyres |
歌手 | Falconer |
专辑 | Among Beggars And Thieves |
下载 | Image LRC TXT |
作曲 : Weinerhall | |
It's the darkened years, | |
superstition's flying high. | |
There is pain, there is fear | |
in the poverty's sigh. | |
Preachers on a frightening spree, | |
of demons and hell's fire. | |
Warning of the devil's decree | |
in all sinful disires. | |
A boy have just arrived, | |
an orphan he's become | |
from adultery and incest and witchery. | |
to the seething alleys | |
of quarrels and discord, | |
a storm cloud has finally gathered. | |
Discussions long into the night, | |
about the dark one's diabolical scheme. | |
Children they listen and they dream | |
well-fed nightmares of similar theme. | |
Imaginations out of control. | |
For each morning they tell more and more. | |
-Summon the new boy for a watch | |
he have seen the signs of evil before. | |
-There is the devil's bride, | |
rode on the goat astride. | |
God save us from satan's firm hand! | |
There is the torture witch, | |
poked us with glowing sticks. | |
God save us from satan's allies. | |
-In the name of our lord I'm harmless. | |
-Confess your sins to our christ! | |
-I can't confess to what children dream. | |
Prejudiced tongues has twisted | |
their minds before your eyes. | |
-Silence, you whore of the dark one, | |
save your soul and repent what you've done | |
Accuse the poor | |
and get a tap on the head | |
-You truley are a blessed child, | |
she will burn in iron upon the stake. | |
Accuse the countess | |
and get a slap in the face. | |
-You aught to know a noble's rang, | |
she's too venerable for you poor fool. | |
-Speed up the pace. | |
Chanting the praise | |
ever higher. | |
Hysteric ball: | |
-Sentence them all to the fire! | |
One day the boy confessed his lies. | |
-I know nothing about | |
the witche's ways. | |
One after one they all came forth. | |
-Rather informers than burn | |
at the end of the day. | |
-There is the wicked tongue, | |
from indolence it sprung. | |
God save us from sinister minds! | |
There is the fiendish flock, | |
all limbs are chained and locked. | |
God save us from sinister minds! | |
There is the serpent's fang, | |
from where the evil sprang. | |
God save him from the dark of hell! | |
There is the boy aflame | |
ending his fancied game. | |
God save him from satan's demons! |
zuo qu : Weinerhall | |
It' s the darkened years, | |
superstition' s flying high. | |
There is pain, there is fear | |
in the poverty' s sigh. | |
Preachers on a frightening spree, | |
of demons and hell' s fire. | |
Warning of the devil' s decree | |
in all sinful disires. | |
A boy have just arrived, | |
an orphan he' s become | |
from adultery and incest and witchery. | |
to the seething alleys | |
of quarrels and discord, | |
a storm cloud has finally gathered. | |
Discussions long into the night, | |
about the dark one' s diabolical scheme. | |
Children they listen and they dream | |
wellfed nightmares of similar theme. | |
Imaginations out of control. | |
For each morning they tell more and more. | |
Summon the new boy for a watch | |
he have seen the signs of evil before. | |
There is the devil' s bride, | |
rode on the goat astride. | |
God save us from satan' s firm hand! | |
There is the torture witch, | |
poked us with glowing sticks. | |
God save us from satan' s allies. | |
In the name of our lord I' m harmless. | |
Confess your sins to our christ! | |
I can' t confess to what children dream. | |
Prejudiced tongues has twisted | |
their minds before your eyes. | |
Silence, you whore of the dark one, | |
save your soul and repent what you' ve done | |
Accuse the poor | |
and get a tap on the head | |
You truley are a blessed child, | |
she will burn in iron upon the stake. | |
Accuse the countess | |
and get a slap in the face. | |
You aught to know a noble' s rang, | |
she' s too venerable for you poor fool. | |
Speed up the pace. | |
Chanting the praise | |
ever higher. | |
Hysteric ball: | |
Sentence them all to the fire! | |
One day the boy confessed his lies. | |
I know nothing about | |
the witche' s ways. | |
One after one they all came forth. | |
Rather informers than burn | |
at the end of the day. | |
There is the wicked tongue, | |
from indolence it sprung. | |
God save us from sinister minds! | |
There is the fiendish flock, | |
all limbs are chained and locked. | |
God save us from sinister minds! | |
There is the serpent' s fang, | |
from where the evil sprang. | |
God save him from the dark of hell! | |
There is the boy aflame | |
ending his fancied game. | |
God save him from satan' s demons! |
zuò qǔ : Weinerhall | |
It' s the darkened years, | |
superstition' s flying high. | |
There is pain, there is fear | |
in the poverty' s sigh. | |
Preachers on a frightening spree, | |
of demons and hell' s fire. | |
Warning of the devil' s decree | |
in all sinful disires. | |
A boy have just arrived, | |
an orphan he' s become | |
from adultery and incest and witchery. | |
to the seething alleys | |
of quarrels and discord, | |
a storm cloud has finally gathered. | |
Discussions long into the night, | |
about the dark one' s diabolical scheme. | |
Children they listen and they dream | |
wellfed nightmares of similar theme. | |
Imaginations out of control. | |
For each morning they tell more and more. | |
Summon the new boy for a watch | |
he have seen the signs of evil before. | |
There is the devil' s bride, | |
rode on the goat astride. | |
God save us from satan' s firm hand! | |
There is the torture witch, | |
poked us with glowing sticks. | |
God save us from satan' s allies. | |
In the name of our lord I' m harmless. | |
Confess your sins to our christ! | |
I can' t confess to what children dream. | |
Prejudiced tongues has twisted | |
their minds before your eyes. | |
Silence, you whore of the dark one, | |
save your soul and repent what you' ve done | |
Accuse the poor | |
and get a tap on the head | |
You truley are a blessed child, | |
she will burn in iron upon the stake. | |
Accuse the countess | |
and get a slap in the face. | |
You aught to know a noble' s rang, | |
she' s too venerable for you poor fool. | |
Speed up the pace. | |
Chanting the praise | |
ever higher. | |
Hysteric ball: | |
Sentence them all to the fire! | |
One day the boy confessed his lies. | |
I know nothing about | |
the witche' s ways. | |
One after one they all came forth. | |
Rather informers than burn | |
at the end of the day. | |
There is the wicked tongue, | |
from indolence it sprung. | |
God save us from sinister minds! | |
There is the fiendish flock, | |
all limbs are chained and locked. | |
God save us from sinister minds! | |
There is the serpent' s fang, | |
from where the evil sprang. | |
God save him from the dark of hell! | |
There is the boy aflame | |
ending his fancied game. | |
God save him from satan' s demons! |