Your native language

عربي

Arabic

عربي

简体中文

Chinese

简体中文

Nederlands

Dutch

Nederlands

Français

French

Français

Deutsch

German

Deutsch

Italiano

Italian

Italiano

日本語

Japanese

日本語

한국인

Korean

한국인

Polski

Polish

Polski

Português

Portuguese

Português

Română

Romanian

Română

Русский

Russian

Русский

Español

Spanish

Español

Türk

Turkish

Türk

Українська

Ukrainian

Українська
User Avatar

Suono


Interfaccia


Livello di difficoltà


Accento



linguaggio dell'interfaccia

it

Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Gestione dei Cookie   |   Supporto   |   FAQ
1
registrati/accedi
Lyrkit

donare

5$

Lyrkit

donare

10$

Lyrkit

donare

20$

Lyrkit

E/o supportarmi sui social. reti:


Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Silent Planet

Panic Room

 

Panic Room

(album: Everything Was Sound - 2016)


Lustrous lines obscured by opaque blinds
Frozen metacarpals tap tap tap the window glass
Syncopated staccatos with the broken clock
Synchronized with my post-traumatic ticks ticks
Talking to the space in the room that echoes back indiscernibly
To my disconnected self/self
It's self-consuming, what's ensuing is my undoing
The nightly casualty of war.

And it sounds like this: War, endless war

In my endless dance with entropy
I must rescind my sentience
The sickness that I know.
Rearrange the disarray of disintegrated senses
Puzzle pieces, spectral splinters of a soldier's worn and tattered soul
In my endless dance with entropy
I must rescind my sentience
The sickness that I know

Machines of air looking down on us
The beasts of dust as we grapple heel and hand,
Mud and sand, (blood red oil)
The chaff of the harvest
Converted to currencies of wealthy means
Stepping stones cut from our perforated bones
Riches are reaped beside our bodies sown just to be thrown back again
And forgotten if we stumble in
Laid inside a homeless nest,
Stuck with eager dirty needles,
Shipped to an early steeple where boxes close
Descend with grace as you defend yourself
Both charitable and chaste.
Praise me for my valor, lay me on a crimson tower
Justify my endless terror as my “finest hour.”
Treat me as a token to deceive the child
Whom we fatten for this scapegoat slaughter.

I learned to fight; I learned to kill;
I learned to steal; I learned that none of this is real
None of this is real
None of this is real
None of this is real

But there's a war inside my head

Beleaguered by my breathing choking, screaming, heaving
Time drags me back to the desert
This is war:
A child stumbles from the wreckage holding his salvation
The trigger to cessation to end us all
I took a life that takes mine
Every quiet moment we collapse
Have you forsaken us?
All the darkness comes alive.
Take my hand, drag me to the void.

Fatto

Hai aggiunto tutte le parole sconosciute di questa canzone?