The Spirit Lives Lyrics

Song	The Spirit Lives
Artist	Roy Harper
Album	HQ
Download	Image LRC TXT

	作词 : Harper
	Where once were men are now but sheep
	-a fiction and far cry
	From planet earth's proud animal
	-who would be you and I.
	Alas, our forebears drank the cup of poisoned alibi
	And made excuses far and wide,
	and made God in the sky.
	This boogaloo's now round the world
	-bad trips for everyone.
	No more the man of paradise
	or the Celt of Albion.
	They queue like burning moths to spread the all-time vicious lie.
	You christians destroyed our tribe
	-I'll fight you till I die.
	And you can cut me down for what I said
	But goodness lives where God is dead.
	The history of religion is the history of the State
	Incestuous exploiters of a catalogue of hate.
	The man of peace was over-run by armies of the "Lord"
	Who signed their names to any war
	and sang to praise the sword.
	The mission heads for outer space
	the voices ring and swell
	With aeons of self-righteousness
	the senseless echoes knell
	The words get much more meaningless
	-even plainer to tell
	That those who would pronounce this God
	are those who make this hell.
	And you can cut me down for what I said
	But goodness lives where God is dead.
	LOVE IS THE great triumph over christianity.
	She made a fool of silly priests. She mocked authority.
	She filled her bed with happiness.She gripped his loins for joy
	And felt ecstatic agonies and screamed the sweetest cry.
	Her children are the legacy of failure to be chained
	An everasting mutiny of flowers where it rained.
	They rise out of oppression
	They speak with one accord.
	The fountains breath- the spirit lives-
	The future rests assured.
	And to say that God is dead presupposes that
	he was at some time alive.
	Ooooo what a young fool I am.

	zuo ci : Harper
	Where once were men are now but sheep
	a fiction and far cry
	From planet earth' s proud animal
	who would be you and I.
	Alas, our forebears drank the cup of poisoned alibi
	And made excuses far and wide,
	and made God in the sky.
	This boogaloo' s now round the world
	bad trips for everyone.
	No more the man of paradise
	or the Celt of Albion.
	They queue like burning moths to spread the alltime vicious lie.
	You christians destroyed our tribe
	I' ll fight you till I die.
	And you can cut me down for what I said
	But goodness lives where God is dead.
	The history of religion is the history of the State
	Incestuous exploiters of a catalogue of hate.
	The man of peace was overrun by armies of the " Lord"
	Who signed their names to any war
	and sang to praise the sword.
	The mission heads for outer space
	the voices ring and swell
	With aeons of selfrighteousness
	the senseless echoes knell
	The words get much more meaningless
	even plainer to tell
	That those who would pronounce this God
	are those who make this hell.
	And you can cut me down for what I said
	But goodness lives where God is dead.
	LOVE IS THE great triumph over christianity.
	She made a fool of silly priests. She mocked authority.
	She filled her bed with happiness. She gripped his loins for joy
	And felt ecstatic agonies and screamed the sweetest cry.
	Her children are the legacy of failure to be chained
	An everasting mutiny of flowers where it rained.
	They rise out of oppression
	They speak with one accord.
	The fountains breath the spirit lives
	The future rests assured.
	And to say that God is dead presupposes that
	he was at some time alive.
	Ooooo what a young fool I am.

	zuò cí : Harper
	Where once were men are now but sheep
	a fiction and far cry
	From planet earth' s proud animal
	who would be you and I.
	Alas, our forebears drank the cup of poisoned alibi
	And made excuses far and wide,
	and made God in the sky.
	This boogaloo' s now round the world
	bad trips for everyone.
	No more the man of paradise
	or the Celt of Albion.
	They queue like burning moths to spread the alltime vicious lie.
	You christians destroyed our tribe
	I' ll fight you till I die.
	And you can cut me down for what I said
	But goodness lives where God is dead.
	The history of religion is the history of the State
	Incestuous exploiters of a catalogue of hate.
	The man of peace was overrun by armies of the " Lord"
	Who signed their names to any war
	and sang to praise the sword.
	The mission heads for outer space
	the voices ring and swell
	With aeons of selfrighteousness
	the senseless echoes knell
	The words get much more meaningless
	even plainer to tell
	That those who would pronounce this God
	are those who make this hell.
	And you can cut me down for what I said
	But goodness lives where God is dead.
	LOVE IS THE great triumph over christianity.
	She made a fool of silly priests. She mocked authority.
	She filled her bed with happiness. She gripped his loins for joy
	And felt ecstatic agonies and screamed the sweetest cry.
	Her children are the legacy of failure to be chained
	An everasting mutiny of flowers where it rained.
	They rise out of oppression
	They speak with one accord.
	The fountains breath the spirit lives
	The future rests assured.
	And to say that God is dead presupposes that
	he was at some time alive.
	Ooooo what a young fool I am.

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