La Dispute
Said The King To The River
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| Добавлена 1 сентября 2011 пользователем Iron Man |
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Текст песни Said The King To The River
"Up, M'Lady--Pack your things, this place is not your home.
Nor was it ever, sever every tie, tonight we ride. Tonight we ride."
"And how we've trembled at the way that time's
Assembled little fires of desire in the tundra of our skin.
So, do yourself a little favor, savor every time you waver
For that shaking in my voice was only slyly feigned chagrin.
Tonight we ride."
"Oh, Lover, uncover. I know it's warm beneath your sheets
And there is ice along the streets but listen—Lover, we will recover.
But we've no time to waste with meddling in affairs
We've locked so tightly in our dreams.
We are not clean, we are not pure, we can not rest until we're sure.
So, rob your pretty little eyes of sleep's disguise.
I'm at your bedside with a bucket full of lies.
So, clear your ears and listen---
Up, M'Lady--Pack your things, this place is not your home.
But I know what is."
And to the glorious past:
You've opened my window but broken the glass.
And I beseech thee, 'shed thy beauty.'
For as a child leaves the womb and learns the cold,
You have taught us perils in the present,
And you will bring us peril in our surely-soon-to-be. Unless...
The river's not flooded this time.
Oh, Precious Distance,
Nor was it ever, sever every tie, tonight we ride. Tonight we ride."
"And how we've trembled at the way that time's
Assembled little fires of desire in the tundra of our skin.
So, do yourself a little favor, savor every time you waver
For that shaking in my voice was only slyly feigned chagrin.
Tonight we ride."
"Oh, Lover, uncover. I know it's warm beneath your sheets
And there is ice along the streets but listen—Lover, we will recover.
But we've no time to waste with meddling in affairs
We've locked so tightly in our dreams.
We are not clean, we are not pure, we can not rest until we're sure.
So, rob your pretty little eyes of sleep's disguise.
I'm at your bedside with a bucket full of lies.
So, clear your ears and listen---
Up, M'Lady--Pack your things, this place is not your home.
But I know what is."
And to the glorious past:
You've opened my window but broken the glass.
And I beseech thee, 'shed thy beauty.'
For as a child leaves the womb and learns the cold,
You have taught us perils in the present,
And you will bring us peril in our surely-soon-to-be. Unless...
The river's not flooded this time.
Oh, Precious Distance,
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