Teksty: Midwinter. Astral Mirrors. Lords Of Creation.
[music & lyrics: Andreas Funke]
Caress sweetly my instrument
When words can only fail,
Elicit naive notes from it
When clouds form to prevail
And fever shakes my burning heart
More fragile than it seems.
I raise my will to save my breast
A Phoenix-life again to lead.
Hark to the world from a different angle
As far too few are able to,
At least it's no big price to pay
To see - not even you.
For you were helpless innocent
And you'll stay for all your time,
You might reach the natural border,
I will build a further line.
Gathered round the fear that makes us strong -
Freedom!
Summoned to fulfil the human role -
To grow!
Hordes of dread
Leave your throne.
We're the Lords of creation,
Human gods on our own!
A symphony
Carved in stone
Of bold, artistic glamour
Shall mark my home.
So scorn the dull, uncultured mob
Sticking on its seat
And satisfied with empty rubbish -
Ridiculous to me!
I caress my instrument...
Astral Mirrors
Midwinter
Popularne wyszukiwania