歌曲 | They Returned To Their Earth (For My Christ Thorn) |
歌手 | Current 93 |
专辑 | As The World Disappears |
作词 : Current Ninety Three ... | |
When serpents come | |
They cover the Christ thorn | |
Two heads | |
And cock heads | |
Serpents feet of emotion | |
Lidded eyes and smudged reality | |
Everything has two faces | |
One is earthly without true form | |
The other blackened and blackening | |
And mother is in the fields | |
Father is in the fields | |
You know well its tortured form | |
It's locked within a particular place | |
It's locked within a particular form | |
It's jailed by a falling light | |
With angles shapes and size | |
It's held by true what | |
It's held in through place | |
It's an aim that has no name | |
Mother is in the fields | |
Father is in the fields | |
It's a form creating formless | |
Formless creating form | |
Oh four towers reaping backwards | |
Do not spell the sound | |
Do not move to the lies | |
Speak the words and they create the universe | |
And they destroy all universe | |
Mother sleeps in the fields | |
And father he reaps in the fields | |
Heavy-lidded eyes do not mask his pain | |
They shade us from the burning light | |
Listen one face one form one truth | |
I see it through the shading glass | |
I see it fractured in the world | |
This is not true | |
It's appearance only | |
Mother is in the fields | |
Father is in the fields | |
An eagle flies his bloody face | |
Behind bloody claws behind bloody claws | |
His pain is blackened rain | |
His rain is Roman | |
Sire the pain it is not finished | |
I happens now | |
Matchstick man in a matchstick world | |
Nake the prime slice the sickle | |
Nake the sickle slice the core | |
Time stops when he was thirty-three | |
And mother is in the fields | |
And father is in the fields | |
Time stops when i am thirty | |
Time stops then and time stops there | |
Then is now | |
Oh why do we not say it | |
Time stops time breaks time folds | |
Time ceases | |
And pestle grindes the mortar | |
The mortar turns to dust | |
The metal turns to rust | |
Words they fail they fall apart | |
The corn it dies and is reborn | |
And mother stays in the fields | |
And father is in the fields | |
Blond hair moves in the blond corn | |
Boyd wears black he talks of death | |
But all his faces spell out light's on the roof | |
He's kissing a rose | |
A blooddrop comes from the heart of her life | |
Something hangs above there in the skies | |
Something hovers above his brown hair | |
Life without us in the background of light | |
And the birds don't sing | |
When the curtain snaps | |
Anita's in Ireland | |
She's falling over rocks | |
Stars of the sky stars of the pain | |
And all stars meet in a falling star | |
And some make money from weapons' blood | |
And some make money from fear's blood | |
And some make money from hunger's blood | |
And some make money from politics' blood | |
And some make money from religion's blood | |
The world falls apart | |
The world starts to cease | |
And mother is in the fields | |
And father has died in the fields |
zuò cí : Current Ninety Three ... | |
When serpents come | |
They cover the Christ thorn | |
Two heads | |
And cock heads | |
Serpents feet of emotion | |
Lidded eyes and smudged reality | |
Everything has two faces | |
One is earthly without true form | |
The other blackened and blackening | |
And mother is in the fields | |
Father is in the fields | |
You know well its tortured form | |
It' s locked within a particular place | |
It' s locked within a particular form | |
It' s jailed by a falling light | |
With angles shapes and size | |
It' s held by true what | |
It' s held in through place | |
It' s an aim that has no name | |
Mother is in the fields | |
Father is in the fields | |
It' s a form creating formless | |
Formless creating form | |
Oh four towers reaping backwards | |
Do not spell the sound | |
Do not move to the lies | |
Speak the words and they create the universe | |
And they destroy all universe | |
Mother sleeps in the fields | |
And father he reaps in the fields | |
Heavylidded eyes do not mask his pain | |
They shade us from the burning light | |
Listen one face one form one truth | |
I see it through the shading glass | |
I see it fractured in the world | |
This is not true | |
It' s appearance only | |
Mother is in the fields | |
Father is in the fields | |
An eagle flies his bloody face | |
Behind bloody claws behind bloody claws | |
His pain is blackened rain | |
His rain is Roman | |
Sire the pain it is not finished | |
I happens now | |
Matchstick man in a matchstick world | |
Nake the prime slice the sickle | |
Nake the sickle slice the core | |
Time stops when he was thirtythree | |
And mother is in the fields | |
And father is in the fields | |
Time stops when i am thirty | |
Time stops then and time stops there | |
Then is now | |
Oh why do we not say it | |
Time stops time breaks time folds | |
Time ceases | |
And pestle grindes the mortar | |
The mortar turns to dust | |
The metal turns to rust | |
Words they fail they fall apart | |
The corn it dies and is reborn | |
And mother stays in the fields | |
And father is in the fields | |
Blond hair moves in the blond corn | |
Boyd wears black he talks of death | |
But all his faces spell out light' s on the roof | |
He' s kissing a rose | |
A blooddrop comes from the heart of her life | |
Something hangs above there in the skies | |
Something hovers above his brown hair | |
Life without us in the background of light | |
And the birds don' t sing | |
When the curtain snaps | |
Anita' s in Ireland | |
She' s falling over rocks | |
Stars of the sky stars of the pain | |
And all stars meet in a falling star | |
And some make money from weapons' blood | |
And some make money from fear' s blood | |
And some make money from hunger' s blood | |
And some make money from politics' blood | |
And some make money from religion' s blood | |
The world falls apart | |
The world starts to cease | |
And mother is in the fields | |
And father has died in the fields |