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

Geluid


Koppel


Moeilijkheidsgraad


Accent



interfacetaal

nl

Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Cookie beleid   |   Steun   |   FAQ
1
registreren / inloggen
Lyrkit

doneren

5$

Lyrkit

doneren

10$

Lyrkit

doneren

20$

Lyrkit

En/of steun mij op sociaal gebied. netwerken:


Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Titus Andronicus

No Future Part IV : No Future Triumphant

 

No Future Part IV : No Future Triumphant

(album: The Most Lamentable Tragedy - 2015)


Some days start with an earthquake
The bed shakes until it breaks
And I hate to be awake

Most days start with a dull ache
Enough weight to crush my face
And I hate to be awake

Both ways are about the same
Making my mouth complain
Is pounding the trouser snake

So I just lie and count the chains
Assign them a thousand names
To praise their astounding strength

My portrait, proud and vain
Hanging without a frame
On the wall of the house of pain

Fragrance of a pungent skunk
Hung in the repugnant
Dungeon where I have sunk
But I can't say it just once

Fragrance of a pungent skunk
Hung in a repugnant
Dungeon where I have sunk
Ooh, it stunk

Cowering in the glowering gloom
Ex-human left entombed
Never to be exhumed

Remember the flowers in bloom
Just for an hour or two
Then back to the sourest mood

Forfeit the power to move
Total paralysis soon
None welcome to the ruins of my room

Door's closed and there's no window
To this odious remote rodent hole
Inside we'd find the frozen ghost
But we won't expose his decomposing soul

Flesh that roasts on smoldering coals
Blood that flows from broken nose
The moss that grows on rolling stones
Floating boats, the ocean throw and pull below

"The loser's movements are truly fruitless
The stupid student won't improve one bit
He refuses to do his tricks
Confused with the rudiments
Cruel unusual punishment
May prove prudent"

Hey, I hate to be awake
I hate to be awake
I hate to be awake
I hate to be awake

I hate to be awake
I hate to be awake
I hate to be awake
I hate to be awake

I hate to be awake

klaar

Heb je alle onbekende woorden uit dit nummer toegevoegd?