Текст песни и перевод My Dying Bride - Kneel Till Doomsday

A Map Of All Our Failures
Жанр: Gothic Metal / Doom Death Metal
Исполнитель: My Dying Bride
Альбом: A Map Of All Our Failures
Длительность: 07:52
Рейтинг: 9957
MP3: Скачать
Загрузил: DiProff

Текст:

I drank the meaning of her words, as theft She danced for Chopin, but his request was that she left The sea gave up his daughter for the moon So weary she looked, as my arm lifts at noon The fate of you and the world hung on his lonely choice I cannot, but I would love to bury the dead again Reward and punishment are the walls of a city bare And it is within your comfort I show the mirror A panic of rich desire leaps up from your burning face The face that shows your eyes was my sole victim tonight It's for you, Christ, that my bodies' here You're bold with your anger and your love is shrewed He is quick so beware The cold pool waits just for you Pierced to the soul by heavens blade of dire shadows Where she speaks with her Lord Her maker sits all alone Deeds are fruit, words are leaves Long shadows cast by old sins She spoke of Christ to the deaf and the poor The woman of fatalism is here now Her heart creeps among shadows of sick children The dying, graceful snow, breaks her simple back

Перевод:

I drank the meaning of her words, as theft She danced for Chopin, but his request was that she left The sea gave up his daughter for the moon So weary she looked, as my arm lifts at noon The fate of you and the world hung on his lonely choice I cannot, but I would love to bury the dead again Reward and punishment are the walls of a city bare And it is within your comfort I show the mirror A panic of rich desire leaps up from your burning face The face that shows your eyes was my sole victim tonight It's for you, Christ, that my bodies' here You're bold with your anger and your love is shrewed He is quick so beware The cold pool waits just for you Pierced to the soul by heavens blade of dire shadows Where she speaks with her Lord Her maker sits all alone Deeds are fruit, words are leaves Long shadows cast by old sins She spoke of Christ to the deaf and the poor The woman of fatalism is here now Her heart creeps among shadows of sick children The dying, graceful snow, breaks her simple back;
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