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A†N†A†T†H†E†M†A...The sands of time for me are running low..
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September 05 Cry for the moon  CRY FOR THE MOON
Follow your common sense You cannot hide yourself Behind a fairytale forever and ever Only by revealing the whole truth can we disclose The soul of this sick bulwark forever and ever Forever and ever Indoctrinated minds so very often Contain sick thoughts And commit most of the evil they preach against Don’t try to convince me with messengers from God You accuse us of sins committed by yourselves It’s easy to condemn without looking in the mirror Behind the scenes opens reality Eternal silence cries out for justice Forgiveness is not for sale Nor is the will to forget Follow your common sense You cannot hide yourself Behind a fairytale forever and ever Only by revealing the whole truth can we disclose The soul of this sick bulwark forever and ever Forever and ever Virginity has been stolen at very young ages And the extinguisher loses its immunity Morbid abuse of power in the garden of eden Where the apple gets a youthful face Eternal silence cries out for justice Forgiveness is not for sale Nor is the will to forget Follow your common sense You cannot hide yourself Behind a fairytale forever and ever Only by revealing the whole truth can we disclose The soul of this sick bulwark forever and ever Forever and ever Eternal silence cries out for justice Forgiveness is not for sale Nor is the will to forget You can’t go on hiding yourself Behind old fashioned fairytales And keep washing your hands in innocence Spleen Spleen
Quando il cielo basso e greve pesa
come un coperchio sullo spirito che geme in
preda a lunghi affanni, e versa, abbracciando
l'intero giro dell'orizzonte,
un giorno nero più triste della notte;
quando la terra è trasformata in umida prigione dove la Speranza, come un pipistrello,
va sbattendo contro i muri la sua timida ala e
picchiando la testa sui soffitti marci;
quando la pioggia, distendendo le sue immense strisce,
imita le sbarre d'un grande carcere,
e un popolo muto d'infami ragni tende le
sue reti in fondo ai nostri cervelli,
improvvisamente delle campane sbattono con furia
e lanciano verso il cielo un urlo orrendo,
simili a spiriti vaganti e senza patria, che si mettono
a gemere ostinatamente.
E lunghi trasporti funebri, senza tamburi né bande,
sfilano lentamente nella mia anima;
vinta, la Speranza piange;
e l'atroce Angoscia, dispotica, pianta sul mio cranio chinato il suo nero vessillo. |
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