Song | Book Of Thel |
Artist | Bruce Dickinson |
Album | The Chemical Wedding |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
作曲 : Casillas, Dickinson, Z. | |
The mark is on you now | |
The furnace sealed inside your head | |
Melting from the inside now | |
Waxy tears run down your face | |
The whore that never told her tale | |
Relives it every night with you | |
Far off stands the lamb and waits | |
For the wolf to come and end its life | |
Stand inside the temple as the book of thel is opening | |
The priestess stands before you | |
Offering her hand out rising | |
Come the dawning of the dead | |
Infamine and in war | |
Now the harlot womb of death | |
Spits out its rotten core | |
Serpent on the altar now | |
Has wrapped itself around your spine | |
So you look into its mouth | |
And you kiss the pearly fangs divine | |
Happy that your end is swift | |
The weeping virgin cries in bliss | |
The snake and priestess they are one | |
The veil of flesh is ripped undone | |
Standing inside the temple as the book of thel is opening | |
The priestess stands before you | |
Offering her hand out shes rising | |
comes the dawning of the dead in famine and in war | |
Now the harlot womb of death | |
Spits out its srotten core | |
By the pricking of my thumbs | |
Something wicked this way comes | |
And when sleep takes you tonight | |
Will you wake to see the light? | |
The burning sweat of poison tears | |
The river flowing with red blood | |
The cradle robbing hand of death | |
Caresses every dreaming head | |
Waiting for the marriage hearse | |
To take you to the funeral pyre | |
So you burn the family tree | |
The generations burnig higher | |
Stand inside the temple as the book of thel is opening | |
the priestess ands before you | |
Offering her hand out, rising | |
Come the dawning of the dead | |
Infamine and in war | |
Now harlot womb of death | |
Spits out its rotten core | |
by the pricking of my thumbs | |
Something wicked this way comes | |
and when sleep takes you tonight | |
Will you wake to see the light? | |
By the dawning of the dead | |
By the dawning of the dead |
zuo qu : Casillas, Dickinson, Z. | |
The mark is on you now | |
The furnace sealed inside your head | |
Melting from the inside now | |
Waxy tears run down your face | |
The whore that never told her tale | |
Relives it every night with you | |
Far off stands the lamb and waits | |
For the wolf to come and end its life | |
Stand inside the temple as the book of thel is opening | |
The priestess stands before you | |
Offering her hand out rising | |
Come the dawning of the dead | |
Infamine and in war | |
Now the harlot womb of death | |
Spits out its rotten core | |
Serpent on the altar now | |
Has wrapped itself around your spine | |
So you look into its mouth | |
And you kiss the pearly fangs divine | |
Happy that your end is swift | |
The weeping virgin cries in bliss | |
The snake and priestess they are one | |
The veil of flesh is ripped undone | |
Standing inside the temple as the book of thel is opening | |
The priestess stands before you | |
Offering her hand out shes rising | |
comes the dawning of the dead in famine and in war | |
Now the harlot womb of death | |
Spits out its srotten core | |
By the pricking of my thumbs | |
Something wicked this way comes | |
And when sleep takes you tonight | |
Will you wake to see the light? | |
The burning sweat of poison tears | |
The river flowing with red blood | |
The cradle robbing hand of death | |
Caresses every dreaming head | |
Waiting for the marriage hearse | |
To take you to the funeral pyre | |
So you burn the family tree | |
The generations burnig higher | |
Stand inside the temple as the book of thel is opening | |
the priestess ands before you | |
Offering her hand out, rising | |
Come the dawning of the dead | |
Infamine and in war | |
Now harlot womb of death | |
Spits out its rotten core | |
by the pricking of my thumbs | |
Something wicked this way comes | |
and when sleep takes you tonight | |
Will you wake to see the light? | |
By the dawning of the dead | |
By the dawning of the dead |
zuò qǔ : Casillas, Dickinson, Z. | |
The mark is on you now | |
The furnace sealed inside your head | |
Melting from the inside now | |
Waxy tears run down your face | |
The whore that never told her tale | |
Relives it every night with you | |
Far off stands the lamb and waits | |
For the wolf to come and end its life | |
Stand inside the temple as the book of thel is opening | |
The priestess stands before you | |
Offering her hand out rising | |
Come the dawning of the dead | |
Infamine and in war | |
Now the harlot womb of death | |
Spits out its rotten core | |
Serpent on the altar now | |
Has wrapped itself around your spine | |
So you look into its mouth | |
And you kiss the pearly fangs divine | |
Happy that your end is swift | |
The weeping virgin cries in bliss | |
The snake and priestess they are one | |
The veil of flesh is ripped undone | |
Standing inside the temple as the book of thel is opening | |
The priestess stands before you | |
Offering her hand out shes rising | |
comes the dawning of the dead in famine and in war | |
Now the harlot womb of death | |
Spits out its srotten core | |
By the pricking of my thumbs | |
Something wicked this way comes | |
And when sleep takes you tonight | |
Will you wake to see the light? | |
The burning sweat of poison tears | |
The river flowing with red blood | |
The cradle robbing hand of death | |
Caresses every dreaming head | |
Waiting for the marriage hearse | |
To take you to the funeral pyre | |
So you burn the family tree | |
The generations burnig higher | |
Stand inside the temple as the book of thel is opening | |
the priestess ands before you | |
Offering her hand out, rising | |
Come the dawning of the dead | |
Infamine and in war | |
Now harlot womb of death | |
Spits out its rotten core | |
by the pricking of my thumbs | |
Something wicked this way comes | |
and when sleep takes you tonight | |
Will you wake to see the light? | |
By the dawning of the dead | |
By the dawning of the dead |