A Song for Douglas After He's Dead Lyrics

Song	A Song for Douglas After He's Dead
Artist	Current 93
Album	Thunder Perfect Mind
Download	Image LRC TXT

	作词 : Current 93, Tibet
	He crouches on the floor, there's a mask on the wall
	And he leafs, through the pages of a book
	But wait as he may in the shadow of other leaves
	His heart, in embraces to times long since scorched

	The horizont folds over, with a purpose sun rise
	And the wind, carry smoke, from a earth that is burning
	The smoke clogs in his hair, and he's covered with patterns
	And a decent, of life trees, on his camouflaged soul
	With a winter of memories, carved ponder bone white
	Beyond his sculls for, a scorpion lies
	In the crunch of the snow, as his darkness increases
	A twilight of ice, encircles his teeth

	This is a song for Douglas, after he's dead
	This is a song for Douglas, his mercury dances

	There's a swastika carved, in the palm of his hand
	There's a crooked cross, that is caught in his mind
	There waits a falling sun, in his eyes
	There's the honor, of violence, on his lips
	His father waits for him, in the towers of silence
	Where they worship the fires, so long ago cringed
	But the two willow trees, with el has inverted
	The fork of life snapped
	They are father and son
	So mingling dust, as if life itself, had been mostly illusion
	But parchly real
	And parchly pain

	And over some wall, if you look through rebels
	Amongst ruins of churches, where life conquers death
	Thou empires can not last, where blood and concepts
	The folted and failed
	A cloud still sow his teeth
	As the world disappears

	This is a song for Douglas, after he's dead
	This is a song for my Douglas, his mercury dances

	zuo ci : Current 93, Tibet
	He crouches on the floor, there' s a mask on the wall
	And he leafs, through the pages of a book
	But wait as he may in the shadow of other leaves
	His heart, in embraces to times long since scorched

	The horizont folds over, with a purpose sun rise
	And the wind, carry smoke, from a earth that is burning
	The smoke clogs in his hair, and he' s covered with patterns
	And a decent, of life trees, on his camouflaged soul
	With a winter of memories, carved ponder bone white
	Beyond his sculls for, a scorpion lies
	In the crunch of the snow, as his darkness increases
	A twilight of ice, encircles his teeth

	This is a song for Douglas, after he' s dead
	This is a song for Douglas, his mercury dances

	There' s a swastika carved, in the palm of his hand
	There' s a crooked cross, that is caught in his mind
	There waits a falling sun, in his eyes
	There' s the honor, of violence, on his lips
	His father waits for him, in the towers of silence
	Where they worship the fires, so long ago cringed
	But the two willow trees, with el has inverted
	The fork of life snapped
	They are father and son
	So mingling dust, as if life itself, had been mostly illusion
	But parchly real
	And parchly pain

	And over some wall, if you look through rebels
	Amongst ruins of churches, where life conquers death
	Thou empires can not last, where blood and concepts
	The folted and failed
	A cloud still sow his teeth
	As the world disappears

	This is a song for Douglas, after he' s dead
	This is a song for my Douglas, his mercury dances

	zuò cí : Current 93, Tibet
	He crouches on the floor, there' s a mask on the wall
	And he leafs, through the pages of a book
	But wait as he may in the shadow of other leaves
	His heart, in embraces to times long since scorched

	The horizont folds over, with a purpose sun rise
	And the wind, carry smoke, from a earth that is burning
	The smoke clogs in his hair, and he' s covered with patterns
	And a decent, of life trees, on his camouflaged soul
	With a winter of memories, carved ponder bone white
	Beyond his sculls for, a scorpion lies
	In the crunch of the snow, as his darkness increases
	A twilight of ice, encircles his teeth

	This is a song for Douglas, after he' s dead
	This is a song for Douglas, his mercury dances

	There' s a swastika carved, in the palm of his hand
	There' s a crooked cross, that is caught in his mind
	There waits a falling sun, in his eyes
	There' s the honor, of violence, on his lips
	His father waits for him, in the towers of silence
	Where they worship the fires, so long ago cringed
	But the two willow trees, with el has inverted
	The fork of life snapped
	They are father and son
	So mingling dust, as if life itself, had been mostly illusion
	But parchly real
	And parchly pain

	And over some wall, if you look through rebels
	Amongst ruins of churches, where life conquers death
	Thou empires can not last, where blood and concepts
	The folted and failed
	A cloud still sow his teeth
	As the world disappears

	This is a song for Douglas, after he' s dead
	This is a song for my Douglas, his mercury dances

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