Marillion
Incubus
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7.45 МБ
Битрейт
128 кбит/c
Длительность
8:31
106
| Добавлена 20 февраля 2008 пользователем AND1 |
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Текст песни Incubus
Track 6 of _Fugazi_ ---
When footlights dim in reverence to prescient passion,
forewarned my audience leaves the stage, floating ahead,
perfumed shift, within the stammering silence.
The face that launched a thousand frames,
Betrayed by a porcelain tear, a stained career.
You've played this scene before, you've played this scene before.
I, the mote in your eye, I, I, I.
I, the mote in your eye, a misplaced reaction, reaction.
The darkroom unleashes imagination, in pornographic images in
Which you will always be the star. (Be the star).
Untouchable, unapproachable.
Constant in the darkness, in the darkness.
Nursing an erection, a misplaced reaction,
With no flower to place before this gravestone.
And the walls become enticingly newspaper thin,
but that would only be developing the negative view.
And you have to be exposed in voyeuristic color, the public act.
Let you model your shame on the mannequin catwalk, catwalk,
let the cats walk.
I've played, this scene before, I've played, this scene before.
I, the mote in your eye, I, I, I.
I, the mote in your eye, a misplaced reaction, satisfaction.
(A debilitating speck of doubt that came from absolutely nowhere.)
You can't brush me under the carpet, you can't hide me under the stairs.
When footlights dim in reverence to prescient passion,
forewarned my audience leaves the stage, floating ahead,
perfumed shift, within the stammering silence.
The face that launched a thousand frames,
Betrayed by a porcelain tear, a stained career.
You've played this scene before, you've played this scene before.
I, the mote in your eye, I, I, I.
I, the mote in your eye, a misplaced reaction, reaction.
The darkroom unleashes imagination, in pornographic images in
Which you will always be the star. (Be the star).
Untouchable, unapproachable.
Constant in the darkness, in the darkness.
Nursing an erection, a misplaced reaction,
With no flower to place before this gravestone.
And the walls become enticingly newspaper thin,
but that would only be developing the negative view.
And you have to be exposed in voyeuristic color, the public act.
Let you model your shame on the mannequin catwalk, catwalk,
let the cats walk.
I've played, this scene before, I've played, this scene before.
I, the mote in your eye, I, I, I.
I, the mote in your eye, a misplaced reaction, satisfaction.
(A debilitating speck of doubt that came from absolutely nowhere.)
You can't brush me under the carpet, you can't hide me under the stairs.
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