(no subject)

Mar 19, 2011 22:58

Все в этом мире возвращается на круги своя. Я снова вспомнила King Crimson. Почему-то эта трагичная, мрачная, но потрясающе утонченная и умная музыка приходит ко мне именно весной.

а с этой песней нет ни одного пристойного видео.

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сравнивая лирику Синфилда с тем, что мы слышим сейчас...неужели люди так отупели?
The wall on which the prophets wrote
Is cracking at the seams.
Upon the instruments of death
The sunlight brightly gleams.
When every man is torn apart
With nightmares and with dreams,
Will no one lay the laurel wreath
When silence drowns the screams.

Confusion will be my epitaph.
As I crawl a cracked and broken path
If we make it we can all sit back
and laugh.
But I fear tomorrow I'll be crying,
Yes I fear tomorrow I'll be crying.

Between the iron gates of fate,
The seeds of time were sown,
And watered by the deeds of those
Who know and who are known;
Knowledge is a deadly friend
When no one sets the rules.
The fate of all mankind I see
Is in the hands of fools.

Confusion will be my epitaph.
As I crawl a cracked and broken path
If we make it we can all sit back
and laugh.
But I fear tomorrow I'll be crying,
Yes I fear tomorrow I'll be crying.

я не умею делать кат, музыка

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