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Hord - The Burial Of The Dead | Текст песни

[Chapter 2. A Heap Of Broken Images]

"April is the cruellest month
Breeding lilacs out of the dead land
Mixing memory and desire
Stirring dull roots with spring rain

What are the roots that clutch what branches grow
Son of man you cannot say or guess for you know
Only a heap of broken images
Where the sun beats And the dead tree
Gives no shelter, the cricket no relief
And the dry stone no sound of water

I could not speak, and my eyes failed
I was neither living nor dead, and I knew nothing
Looking into the heart of light, the silence"

Words taken from "The Burial Of The Dead", in The Waste Land by T.S. Eliot

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