Man lives chained
hand and foot,
round his neck an iron band,
tied down to
the cold stone floor,
while visions of sorrow
like a mist roll over.
An odor of war
like a ripe vineyard,
breathes and lingers
around his broken body
Monsters from worlds
unknown and forgotten,
hover like ghosts
in the cold cold morning..
The voices of the living
the voices of the dead
scream like a sharp knife
that's stuck in my head
Painted in tears,
crying oppressed
bent broken down
beaten and shattered
force to bow low
before the dark gods bred
on the wings and the blood
of revenge and desire..
The fires of stars `
quenched by a stormy night,
while thunder rolls
like drums through the dark sky
touch the heart
that beats down in the valley,
reach your hand into
the cold cold graveyard.
On the highway of diamonds
there is nobody walking
There's a big sign says no ones allowed
On the highway of diamonds
there's nothing that's living
In the caves of its shadows
hang the jewels of the proud
The voices of science
the voices of art
sing like a sharp sword
that's deep in my heart
Painted in tears, crying oppressed
bent broken down
beaten and shattered
force to bow low
before the dark gods bred
on the wings and the blood
of revenge and desire..
The voice of this country
cries in the morning
A minion of soldiers
breathing power dominion
I see your old mountains
like aging men fading
An old photo worn
yellow and dying
Pale the tall mountains
sick is your morning
The dead brood over
you a grim warning
Wooden your chessmen
dressed up in violence
On a board tired
of blood and its dying
The voices on high
the voices below
sing like a bullet that deep in my soul
Painted in tears,
crying oppressed
bent broken down
beaten and shattered
force to bow low
before the dark gods bred
on the wings and the blood
of revenge and desire..
hand and foot,
round his neck an iron band,
tied down to
the cold stone floor,
while visions of sorrow
like a mist roll over.
An odor of war
like a ripe vineyard,
breathes and lingers
around his broken body
Monsters from worlds
unknown and forgotten,
hover like ghosts
in the cold cold morning..
The voices of the living
the voices of the dead
scream like a sharp knife
that's stuck in my head
Painted in tears,
crying oppressed
bent broken down
beaten and shattered
force to bow low
before the dark gods bred
on the wings and the blood
of revenge and desire..
The fires of stars `
quenched by a stormy night,
while thunder rolls
like drums through the dark sky
touch the heart
that beats down in the valley,
reach your hand into
the cold cold graveyard.
On the highway of diamonds
there is nobody walking
There's a big sign says no ones allowed
On the highway of diamonds
there's nothing that's living
In the caves of its shadows
hang the jewels of the proud
The voices of science
the voices of art
sing like a sharp sword
that's deep in my heart
Painted in tears, crying oppressed
bent broken down
beaten and shattered
force to bow low
before the dark gods bred
on the wings and the blood
of revenge and desire..
The voice of this country
cries in the morning
A minion of soldiers
breathing power dominion
I see your old mountains
like aging men fading
An old photo worn
yellow and dying
Pale the tall mountains
sick is your morning
The dead brood over
you a grim warning
Wooden your chessmen
dressed up in violence
On a board tired
of blood and its dying
The voices on high
the voices below
sing like a bullet that deep in my soul
Painted in tears,
crying oppressed
bent broken down
beaten and shattered
force to bow low
before the dark gods bred
on the wings and the blood
of revenge and desire..
envoyé par giorgio - 3/1/2010 - 09:42
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Lyrics & Music by Roger John Contardi
Testo e musica di Roger John Contardi