Malediction 歌词

歌曲	Malediction
歌手	Diamanda Galás
专辑	You Must Be Certain of the Devil
下载	Image LRC TXT

	作词 : Galas
	The arms that you cut off that Sunday night
	of the young man who ran screaming through
	the street,
	streaming blood in trails of terror,
	are the arms that point me to my door,
	which forsaken by the blood of Jesus,
	invites the Devil, who now waits for me outside.
	The arms that you cut off that Sunday night
	are the arms that point me to the red eyes
	of the pentecostal killers and the black eyes
	of the roman catholic killers and the blue eyes
	of the pinhead skinhead killers,
	and the dirty angel does his target practice night
	and day,
	making ready now to steal my soul away.
	The arms that you cut off that Sunday night
	are the arms that wait between my T.V. and my gun,
	while the winks and smiles of singing debutantes
	and eunuchs whisper,
	"We don't want you, Unclean, lying there in vomit,
	filth, and perspiration,
	coming back with Elvis or with Jesus from the dead."
	The arms that you cut off the body
	of the screaming young man
	dance before my eyes the endless murder of my soul
	which, taunted every hour by open windows,
	has kept itself alive with prayer,
	but not for miracles,
	and not for heaven.
	Just for silence
	and for mercy
	until the end.

	zuo ci : Galas
	The arms that you cut off that Sunday night
	of the young man who ran screaming through
	the street,
	streaming blood in trails of terror,
	are the arms that point me to my door,
	which forsaken by the blood of Jesus,
	invites the Devil, who now waits for me outside.
	The arms that you cut off that Sunday night
	are the arms that point me to the red eyes
	of the pentecostal killers and the black eyes
	of the roman catholic killers and the blue eyes
	of the pinhead skinhead killers,
	and the dirty angel does his target practice night
	and day,
	making ready now to steal my soul away.
	The arms that you cut off that Sunday night
	are the arms that wait between my T. V. and my gun,
	while the winks and smiles of singing debutantes
	and eunuchs whisper,
	" We don' t want you, Unclean, lying there in vomit,
	filth, and perspiration,
	coming back with Elvis or with Jesus from the dead."
	The arms that you cut off the body
	of the screaming young man
	dance before my eyes the endless murder of my soul
	which, taunted every hour by open windows,
	has kept itself alive with prayer,
	but not for miracles,
	and not for heaven.
	Just for silence
	and for mercy
	until the end.

	zuò cí : Galas
	The arms that you cut off that Sunday night
	of the young man who ran screaming through
	the street,
	streaming blood in trails of terror,
	are the arms that point me to my door,
	which forsaken by the blood of Jesus,
	invites the Devil, who now waits for me outside.
	The arms that you cut off that Sunday night
	are the arms that point me to the red eyes
	of the pentecostal killers and the black eyes
	of the roman catholic killers and the blue eyes
	of the pinhead skinhead killers,
	and the dirty angel does his target practice night
	and day,
	making ready now to steal my soul away.
	The arms that you cut off that Sunday night
	are the arms that wait between my T. V. and my gun,
	while the winks and smiles of singing debutantes
	and eunuchs whisper,
	" We don' t want you, Unclean, lying there in vomit,
	filth, and perspiration,
	coming back with Elvis or with Jesus from the dead."
	The arms that you cut off the body
	of the screaming young man
	dance before my eyes the endless murder of my soul
	which, taunted every hour by open windows,
	has kept itself alive with prayer,
	but not for miracles,
	and not for heaven.
	Just for silence
	and for mercy
	until the end.

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