Song | Abysmo |
Artist | Moonspell |
Album | Lusitanian Metal (Live In Katowice 2004) |
作词 : Moonspell, Ribiero | |
Men with both roots and wings | |
they tie us down and ask us to leave | |
they are teachings unheard, they are bodies on smoke | |
Men with both roots and wings | |
at a singular voice we moan | |
our teachings mislead, our teachings like smoke | |
we sleep between the storm that was | |
and the storm which has to come | |
We've learnt to learn everywhere | |
and the very own nature has taught us to wait | |
difference does sound like sin ,equality reliefs | |
and that fame ryhmes with hate yet everything is fair | |
on the intervals of your death | |
misguided demons or forthcoming heroes | |
each one with an important name | |
nothing else than an important name. | |
Men with both roots and wings | |
at a certain time we are one | |
our litlle tricks, our innocence stubborn | |
Men with just little wings, men with just little minds | |
Men with just little eyes, men with just little deeds | |
sleeping between the storm that was | |
and the wind which fails to come (and finally) | |
blow us away. |
zuò cí : Moonspell, Ribiero | |
Men with both roots and wings | |
they tie us down and ask us to leave | |
they are teachings unheard, they are bodies on smoke | |
Men with both roots and wings | |
at a singular voice we moan | |
our teachings mislead, our teachings like smoke | |
we sleep between the storm that was | |
and the storm which has to come | |
We' ve learnt to learn everywhere | |
and the very own nature has taught us to wait | |
difference does sound like sin , equality reliefs | |
and that fame ryhmes with hate yet everything is fair | |
on the intervals of your death | |
misguided demons or forthcoming heroes | |
each one with an important name | |
nothing else than an important name. | |
Men with both roots and wings | |
at a certain time we are one | |
our litlle tricks, our innocence stubborn | |
Men with just little wings, men with just little minds | |
Men with just little eyes, men with just little deeds | |
sleeping between the storm that was | |
and the wind which fails to come and finally | |
blow us away. |