exibições de letras 29

Funambulist

Cormorant

Letra

    None speak of the pious in history:
    Notre dame conquered by a poète mauldit.
    Beyond france's gendarmes and butchery
    Rose my twin-eyed concrete babel staring
    Down the gods.
    Stir their hearts;
    Men applaud
    Crime as art.

    Violent birth.
    Pile driver lances
    Pierce the earth
    And bleed the clouds.
    (walk on its veins)

    Steel and glass.
    The propance dancers
    Wrap this mass
    In burning shrouds.
    (forest of cranes.)

    New york, i adopt this child.

    Flight over the ocean,
    Mind as vine to stone
    On a tower.
    Sleight of foot in motion,
    Twined aroud a throne.
    I count and count the hours.

    Alea jacta est.

    Wire.
    A workman's attire.
    The years we conspired
    Finally bear fruit
    This august
    Mo(u)rn
    A nation forlornm
    Its emperor shorn
    Of august suit
    By modest blades.

    As i walk he fades.

    Crate:
    500 pound weight.
    Whisked up the freight
    To south level
    One zero
    Fo(u)r
    The nightwatchman's snore,
    My skull on the floor,
    Sold ot the devil
    For heroes'
    Deeds.

    To the skies i lead.
    Bowman draws the string.
    Ropes and cable...
    ...cling stowaway to the arrow's flight;
    At missle's point, north and south unite.
    Cordina, clamp, cavaletti, knot...
    At backbreaking dawn, the wires pull taut.

    Rope still sways.
    Winds will rage.
    Heart ablaze,
    I wage
    War
    On fate.
    Fear devoid,
    Lungs inflate,
    Tempt the void:

    The first step.

    Le néant.
    Vos chants, vos cris, je les entends.
    A chaque pas, le nuages s'adoucissent.
    Je danse. elégance.
    Je me permets un sourir:
    Si je meurs, quelle mort!
    Avec les dieux à mes pieds.

    I wave, i sit, i rest, i dream.

    Speak to birds
    Words of calm.
    Psalms of faith
    Swathe no auspice
    Wreaked by siren howls.

    Uproar from the lowland:
    The rattle of lawmen's chains.
    The lords of the northland
    Cast me to the plains
    A mortal man.
    The last step.

    Nona, spin your thread.
    Join it to the sun,
    So i may walk.
    Morta, rouse your dead.
    Tell them of the sun,
    For with me they walk.

    Composição: Arthur von Nagel / Brennan Kunkel / Cormorant / Matt Solis / Nick Cohon. Essa informação está errada? Nos avise.



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