歌曲 | Lucifer Over London |
歌手 | Current 93 |
专辑 | SixSixSix: SickSickSick |
下载 | Image LRC TXT |
作词 : Current Ninety Three ... | |
The twisted wings and clouds unfold | |
And the greatgape of He who fell | |
Makes darkened shadows over pointed spires | |
Little children point and sing | |
And little children run and dance | |
Over there the setting sun | |
And under that the silent stars | |
And under they the weeping sky | |
And under Her the laughing world | |
(Balance sits in western parts | |
And piles spare Spares in his gabled room) | |
Great Anarch and Monarch of Not | |
The Flight of Lucifer over London | |
And my little grandson | |
Wrinkled son forehead | |
All tiny blue pain | |
As the Mother Blood emerges | |
Then the Mother Grief | |
And the Blue Gates of Death | |
Open armwide | |
Open teethwide | |
All dead like the leaves | |
Old times shiver | |
Old dead calendar | |
Past blurred sunsets | |
Cinders flying in His heart His heart | |
His fingers punch holes in the sky | |
(And all the little Christs I count | |
Are covered in the breathwhite snow | |
And all the little Christs I call | |
Are laughing through the green green fields) | |
Some of those angels have the face of God | |
And some of them have the face of dogs | |
(By the Tower of Moad - see the sky's Greenangel form) | |
And lucifer flickers all around me | |
His hooded eyes alight | |
In the smoky musk | |
Look into Him just a little longer | |
See the true face of the Moon | |
So He wheels there through the heavens | |
His eyes are dotted brightlights | |
Licked with dust | |
A golden seabird | |
Halfdead with spray | |
His banners broken flags in the wind | |
Devouring life he breaks at walls | |
The glint of dead fruits glint | |
And then the Moon... | |
And then the Moon... | |
And then the Moon... | |
(And sixsixsix | |
It makes us sick | |
We're sicksicksick | |
of 666) |
zuo ci : Current Ninety Three ... | |
The twisted wings and clouds unfold | |
And the greatgape of He who fell | |
Makes darkened shadows over pointed spires | |
Little children point and sing | |
And little children run and dance | |
Over there the setting sun | |
And under that the silent stars | |
And under they the weeping sky | |
And under Her the laughing world | |
Balance sits in western parts | |
And piles spare Spares in his gabled room | |
Great Anarch and Monarch of Not | |
The Flight of Lucifer over London | |
And my little grandson | |
Wrinkled son forehead | |
All tiny blue pain | |
As the Mother Blood emerges | |
Then the Mother Grief | |
And the Blue Gates of Death | |
Open armwide | |
Open teethwide | |
All dead like the leaves | |
Old times shiver | |
Old dead calendar | |
Past blurred sunsets | |
Cinders flying in His heart His heart | |
His fingers punch holes in the sky | |
And all the little Christs I count | |
Are covered in the breathwhite snow | |
And all the little Christs I call | |
Are laughing through the green green fields | |
Some of those angels have the face of God | |
And some of them have the face of dogs | |
By the Tower of Moad see the sky' s Greenangel form | |
And lucifer flickers all around me | |
His hooded eyes alight | |
In the smoky musk | |
Look into Him just a little longer | |
See the true face of the Moon | |
So He wheels there through the heavens | |
His eyes are dotted brightlights | |
Licked with dust | |
A golden seabird | |
Halfdead with spray | |
His banners broken flags in the wind | |
Devouring life he breaks at walls | |
The glint of dead fruits glint | |
And then the Moon... | |
And then the Moon... | |
And then the Moon... | |
And sixsixsix | |
It makes us sick | |
We' re sicksicksick | |
of 666 |
zuò cí : Current Ninety Three ... | |
The twisted wings and clouds unfold | |
And the greatgape of He who fell | |
Makes darkened shadows over pointed spires | |
Little children point and sing | |
And little children run and dance | |
Over there the setting sun | |
And under that the silent stars | |
And under they the weeping sky | |
And under Her the laughing world | |
Balance sits in western parts | |
And piles spare Spares in his gabled room | |
Great Anarch and Monarch of Not | |
The Flight of Lucifer over London | |
And my little grandson | |
Wrinkled son forehead | |
All tiny blue pain | |
As the Mother Blood emerges | |
Then the Mother Grief | |
And the Blue Gates of Death | |
Open armwide | |
Open teethwide | |
All dead like the leaves | |
Old times shiver | |
Old dead calendar | |
Past blurred sunsets | |
Cinders flying in His heart His heart | |
His fingers punch holes in the sky | |
And all the little Christs I count | |
Are covered in the breathwhite snow | |
And all the little Christs I call | |
Are laughing through the green green fields | |
Some of those angels have the face of God | |
And some of them have the face of dogs | |
By the Tower of Moad see the sky' s Greenangel form | |
And lucifer flickers all around me | |
His hooded eyes alight | |
In the smoky musk | |
Look into Him just a little longer | |
See the true face of the Moon | |
So He wheels there through the heavens | |
His eyes are dotted brightlights | |
Licked with dust | |
A golden seabird | |
Halfdead with spray | |
His banners broken flags in the wind | |
Devouring life he breaks at walls | |
The glint of dead fruits glint | |
And then the Moon... | |
And then the Moon... | |
And then the Moon... | |
And sixsixsix | |
It makes us sick | |
We' re sicksicksick | |
of 666 |