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

Dźwięk


Interfejs


Poziom trudności


Akcent



język interfejsu

pl

Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Polityka Cookie   |   Wsparcie   |   FAQ
1
zarejestruj się / zaloguj
Lyrkit

podarować

5$

Lyrkit

podarować

10$

Lyrkit

podarować

20$

Lyrkit

I/lub wesprzyj mnie w mediach społecznościowych. sieci:


Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
La Dispute

The Surgeon And The Scientist

 

The Surgeon And The Scientist

(album: Vancouver - 2006)


Don't call this an art project.
this is science, this is progress.
and don't pretend these are heartfelt words, we are
children dressed as surgeons but disturbed by the sight of our scars.
and now we carry scalpels to trace the scarring resting somewhere
on the line between my house, your heart and into your home.
where you lay sleeping like a ceiling fan in winter,
gently turning as the wind reaches its fingers through the window
just to hold you, like I held you.
pressed like a rose between my fingers or like stones
I keep in pockets meant to weigh me underwater.

these scars will fade away but never disappear, my dear.
we'll raise our fists like lightning to rods to god and
if he strikes us down,
then he strikes us down.
but first, let him hear us speak:
we are like the legacy of thunderstorms we watched and swore in doorways,
"we will never be the same again."

I can feel you healing and I hate it,
(like a harpist without hands you only bang the strings
you used to love to touch so much)
to hear the dissonance drain violently and then dissolve
like all the songs i sang but never once could make you smile.
my god, I would kill to make you smile.
and reach out to my hands, soft and frail,
to make good on the love that you swear still exists, and still thrives
though we've buried our bodies in blood (and old lies,
like, "I'm fine" and "you look so much better than him"
but don't trust the surgeon with your heart,
she's drunk and sips from poison cups, and
don't you trust the scientist,
he says "life-is-like-a-wineglass" as he spills his drink
like secrets
all across your dress and says:

"my dear, I must confess, i never thought you ever knew what love was like for real.

I never thought you needed me.")

zrobione

Czy dodałeś wszystkie nieznane słowa z tej piosenki?