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Current 93 - A Song for Douglas After He's Dead (As the World Disappears) | Текст песни

He crouches on the floor, there's a mask on the wall.
And he leafs, through the pages of a book.
But wait as he may in the shadow of other leaves.
His heart, in embraces to times long since scorched.

The horizon folds over, with a purple sun rise.
And the wind carries smoke, from a world that is burning.
The smoke locks in his hair, and he's covered with
patterns.
A decent, of life trees, on his camouflaged soul.
With a winter of memories, carved powder bone white.
Beyond his sculls form, a scorpion lies.
In the crunch of the snow, as his darkness increases.
A twilight of ice, encircles his teeth.

This is a song for Douglas, after he's dead.
This is a song for Douglas, his mercury dances.

There's a swastika carved, in the palm of his hand.
There's a crooked cross, that is caught in his mind.
There waits a falling sun, in his eyes.
There's the honour, of violence, on his lips.
His father waits for him, near the towers of silence.
Where they worship the fires, so long ago quenched.
Under two willow trees, with elhaz inverted.
The fork of life snapped.
They are father and son.
So mingling dust, as if life itself, had been mostly
illusion.
But partially real.
And partially pain.

And over some wall, if you look through the rubble.
Amongst ruins of churches, where life conquers death.
Though empires can not last, where blood and soils
conquest.
The faulted and failed.
A cloud still sows teeth.
As the world disappears.

This is a song for Douglas, after he's dead.
This is a song for Douglas, his mercury dances.

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