Defeater все тексты (слова) песен, переводы, видео, клипы

I stand next to an empty grave
Where my friends will lay
I'll put their bodies down
Into their resting place.
Got a purple heart
For a wound and scar
They just send letters home
That broke the families apart.

[He just sat at home with the bottle. His mother had turned into a skeleton of herself, no longer even able to get out of the house to fill up her arms; he had to make the runs for her. He didn’t mind anymore, he knew how she felt. Anything to take away the pain of losing someone. She would just sit with her rosary, rolling the beads in her tiny hands. Every time he left the house for his mother, or for another bottle, he would stand on that dock and watch the ocean like he used to. Scream out to no one for the coward to come home so he could make him pay. And every night he would start to fade with every hour that passed. He would smoke his last cigarette and find himself in the house in the morning not knowing how he got home. And one morning he woke to his mother and her rosary beads no longer hanging on the bedpost.]

You’ve got to find her
Your mother ain’t fit to be alone

Her rosary beads are gone, only one place she’d be
The sun is nearly up, put your jacket back on
And walk down the street

I ain't been sleeping well these days
I lie awake listening to the trains
Wishing for one of them
To come take me away
Lost my way every place I've been
Tired of thinking of all the hurt I've seen
Wishing for death
To finally take me.

As the waves crash, the clouds roll.
Sit on the dock waiting for the sun.
Wait for the coward but he never comes.
Pray for revenge on him.
Steam rises as the boats come in, one by one.
You know she is gone and there's no saving her.
Her cheating, her weak will, the addiction, that needle.
When you come home to find her on the floor,

March. 1945

unwanted from his first breath.
a mother's blessing born,
a father's burden worn.
the bright shine of the sunrise
along the tile floor to the open door.

ou need to get out of this house. I ll walk you down to town. We ll go act our age, kick rocks, waste summer days. Penny candy at the general store, I d buy us a pop if I had more. Keep walking inland all day, spitting and cursing each other s name. Ain t this what brothers are supposed to do? The blood between us, makes it all but true.

So we roll on through past the quarries and sandpits too. Swim out among the rocks and cliffs, ignorant youth keeps us from death. Find our way out to the tracks. The sun, it beats down on our backs. Heaven help us if there s a train, dodge it like the beaches of Normandy. We saw that smoke rising over trees and I swore that train was out for me. So I held him tight and felt those tracks rumble underneath. He swore if I didn t let go he would knock me off my feet, and that s what he did.

Unwanted, but breathing.
In the next room, sleeping.
My mother, she's crying and my father's been drinking.
In our run down apartment, where the roof is still leaking.

He's cursing and cussing, it's just the whiskey talking.
I've got lots of memories like this one.
Of empty days and nights spent tired and lonesome.

that soap box song
stuck in his head.
burdens lie in graves past by.
he carries his weight.
that anthem for the disenchanted
rings loud in waves of grain.
heavy hearted hymns
heard in slums fade out on those country roads.

After she was in the ground, he didn’t know what to do. He still towed those lines at work, he still took care of his mother, but nothing was the same. He had lost everything. So he did what they always used to, go sit at their booth at the Copper Coin. Now it was just him, alone. Now he would just get blind drunk, hop the gates to the cemetery and just sit and talk to her.

Climb those cemetery walls again; leave these flowers at your headstone. Climb those cemetery walls again, every night; you can’t stand the sight of yourself. “Now that you’re gone, what am I to do? But get lost in this bottle thinking of you.” You drink until you’re sick. “I trace the grooves in your stone.” Plot where you’ll bury him, the man that left you alone. You drink until you’re sick, and feel the dew in the grass. As the sun’s coming up, watch a funeral pass. You think to yourself, “That should have been me.” Two in the family plot, when you wish it were three.”

Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners
Now and at the hour of our death
Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners
Now and at the hour of our death
Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners
Now and at the hour of our death

Forgive me, my father

"there's no place for me."
a man of nowhere,
a man of black heart
from the dead end streets.

"regret runs through me.
i am no one,
i am nothing,

I've got this hope in my chest
I'll see one more sunrise
I've got my brother's good luck
Around my neck every night

I've got this song in my head
It's got me thinking of him
My hear is heavy with guilt

Bury him in a cold white cloud
Familiar faces wouldn't make him proud
The military and the working men
The history of the life he led
Can you feel the soil covering your coffin?
Can you feel?

So what are you gonna take?

it still looks the same here after all these years.
the junkies and the steamboat men,
the sun never set on them here.
he walks to his rundown home,
hell-bent to find his mother,
but all that fear comes back
when he is greeted by his brother.
"it's not the same"

The way she looked at you, tears streaming down her face.
You felt the brush of her dress as she walked away.
And that's all it took, sat down to buy her a drink.
An empty or a half full glass, it all goes down the same.
And that's the way that it's been, years later she took your name.
Hopeful and now unafraid. Your gut sinks each time you see her.
Another night at the Copper Coin. Tell me about the old days.
Another night at the Copper Coin. Put the sun into the sea.

roll on through
to the other side of town.
passed the quarry,
the river beds,
over bridges
and bunker sheds.

roll on through

Hello my dear
It’s so nice to see you here
How long has it been?
Oh it feels like years
But I’m sure it’s just been days

Been walking around alone
Drunk and missing you at home

i'm wanderin' these streets alone
they don't feel like home
this once hallowed ground
feels like a ghost town now
i'm on the street corner every day
and at night i drink it away
this flask that saved my life
might be the death of me

Dear old friend
I'm feeling hopeless again
I'm giving in to my vices bottle in hand

Dear old friend
I think I'm slipping again
At the end of my rope with this pain in my head

Let’s talk about the old days, let’s talk about your friends. Let’s talk about the summer and how you wish it wouldn’t end. Did I forget to tell you how pretty you looked in that dress? And the first time that I saw you, you cleaned the mess from my head. And I don’t mind, if we take our time. Let’s go walking on the boardwalk, dip our feet into the sea. Let’s find ourselves lost for hours, until we find ourselves a drink. Let’s talk that sun into setting, just need the sound of your voice. I need that calming and the comfort, something to drown out the noise. And I don’t mind if we take our time, and I’m all yours, if you’re all mine. There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you, for about three years and a day. I’d very much like to get married and maybe have kids and move away. Because there ain’t nothing like your smile, your legs and those eyes.

And I will beg and steal and borrow to keep you safe your whole life.

One night, they fought harder than they ever had. They had always settled things with a ‘sorry’ and a kiss. But not that night. He had started going at the bottle much more than he used to. He’d go out to the Copper Coin after taking care of his mother and her addiction. He hated her for never backing him up when that bookie would talk to her. He thought she humored him. And after that fight, he did the same thing. Went out to the bar and drank himself into a stupor.

“Where were you every night that I woke up alone?” Cold sweat keeps you up. “This ain’t no kind of home.” “Come pick me up.” “Damn those boys at the bar, damn the way that you drink.” Cold sweat, sleepless nights, when your hands start to shake. “Damn that pier where you sit, damn your vengeance for him. There’s no bringing him back, your father is buried and dead. But you can’t let go of that hero’s death. And you’ve been left with debt. You couldn’t fight for your country and your mother is an addict. “How dare you?” “This ain’t no kind of home.” “Damn that man that you humour, he only wants one thing from you. Damn those looks that you give him. Parlour tricks and I’m played for a fool.”

I quit believing in heaven
I found no saviour in nothing
I gave away my faith
When I gave my brother a coffin

He was the air in my lungs
He was the blood in my veins
The reason I joined up

Another day when the sun ain’t shining
Another night with the bottle I drown in
Still hoping, still waiting
Still breathing, by a thread still holding
Another day when the sun ain’t shining
Another night with the bottle I drown in
Still hoping, still waiting
Still breathing, by a thread still holding on

Nights chasing ghosts, asleep in the pews.
Vacant and still, your arm in a noose.
Pillar of salt, we can never look back.
The lies we have led, we are cursed in our past.
We are cursed in our past.
We are cursed in our death.

A penance paid for in blood.

he walks the streets collar up to the snowfall.
holes in pockets and knees.
sleeps in bar rooms and horse stalls.
but you can't stay too long in one place.
"move along kid, we don't like your face."
mother's hold children close out of fear.
father's curse under breath as they sneer.
and he walks the streets, years pass by with the snowfall.

You sit, and you stir.
You grieve and you grieve.
The same chair as your old man,
your mother’s worse than you think.
Sunken eyes and a withering frame,
the needle quiets the longing.
That poison it fills her veins.

The days since we last spoke turned to weeks, turned to months, turned to years
You were heavy with child with your arms around a stranger in fear
I had the burn in my blood, I had the ash in my veins,
Had the lies I keep hid between teeth
The boy must never know about me, never know of my face.
Between us, hold these secrets we keep
My penance, in your name

Singin' New York Town

My saviour, this city.
My comfort, her pity.
Or so I hoped.
My heartache, my hard luck,
My war time, my struggle,
That no one knows-

I’ve never heard the voice of God
I’ve found no trace of heaven either
Since I was spared in hell I repay the old chaplain that saved me
I spend my days with the good book
Follow every chapter, prayer and verse
I spend my nights with my vices
Just to find some proof in the words

I've spent days in this trench in the snow,
Just my gun by my side.
It's cold and wet and you're all alone
Up keeping watch at night.

The bite and the sting
that the bitter cold brings
reminds you, that you're still alive.

That whiskey burns goin' down.
Old man pour me another round,
Because it's my last night in town,
And I ain't thinkin' of slowin' down.
No, I am fixin' to drown

Till I see the sun, or I can't see.
Cuz I got the blues, and the blues got me.

The bookie his dad dealt with when he’d go to the tracks always gave him the eye when they would see each other there. He wanted to knock his jaw right off his face, tell him his father’s debt ain’t got nothing to do with him, and “if you’d like we could settle it with our fists.” That bookie never did a damned thing about it. But that night was different, that bookie was there and he gave him what for. Told him, “You ain’t never to look at my wife like that again.” He landed one good punch, but that man’s lackeys took him to the ground faster than he could hit, and he was out.

He woke up in the street and walked home, trying to put together the pieces of the night before. The shame he felt for all the drinking he had been doing and the way he walked out ran so deep. He knew no husband should act the way he did. He made it to the doorstep much quicker than he thought he would, the door was already open and that’s when he saw her. The love of his life, passed in his own home because he wasn’t there to protect her. Because he was out drinking all night. Because that goddamned bookie took her life as a settlement. He put his fist through every wall of that house. Every light smashed and chair overturned. He sat there next to her for hours and couldn’t cry, just held her hand and pulled her ring out of the blood.

You’re going to find him, and make him pay. Stumble out to the bar. “Take one more look at her, and it will be the end of your days. You low-life bookie, you don’t scare me. I ain’t settling no debt, I ain’t saving no face. One more drink then I’m gone and then I’ll drag you out of this place.” Put it down for the courage, your fists clench with the blood rush. White knuckles when the hit lands, cold concrete and blurred vision. Stumble home from the bar. Stuttered steps home to your front door. On the tip of your tongue, your remorse. Shamed by the loss and defeat. Shamed by your let down to her. The same walk as that first night. Now alone you know that this ain’t right. Better days and the promise you made, ain’t no man supposed to walk out that way. Her ring lies in the thick red, your tears swell, and the room spins. “Dear God, what have I done?” You left her, and he took her, he laid with her. You bastard’s son. With the blackout and the bloodstains, your teeth clench, then the pain comes.

Lost in your own head, but then a knock at the door. Put down that drink, your steps creaking the floor. Go and get the gun, distract yourself from death. Back against the door, your hands are starting to sweat. Slowly cock the gun, slowly move to the side, slowly turn the handle, slowly open it wide. You catch a glimpse of his face. Your heart sinks in your chest; your hands start to shake because you know that it’s him. Just the coward and you standing silent, dead air. So you pull him inside into your father’s chair. “Your addict mother is dead, all thanks to you. Her addiction got worse after you left you damn fool. What you did to our father, I promised you’d pay up.

I’m going to take your life, but it don’t feel like enough.” Cold steel to his head, walk him to his death. Walk him down past the white oak doors. Walk him out past the boardwalk and your old shipyard. Your pistol in his side, make him pay. On the outskirts of town, pass the old quarry now. Walk him down to those cold steel tracks. You stumble drunk with the gun in his back.

“Now get down on your knees on the tracks where you shamed me. But this time, the dodge ain’t going to end so pretty. Either a bullet or that train steaming just ahead is going to end your days. You coward little kid.” You sit and you stir, while he waits for his death. You’ll never forgive him, and you never did forget. He’ll never see the sun again. Make him pay off his debt. Stand on those tracks, cold steel under your feet, barrel to his temple. “Your addict mother, you will soon re-meet,” you whisper in his ear, feel his whole body shake. In an instant he’s got your arm, he’s got your gun, you’re held down by his weight. You feel the cold steel above and below. You feel your stomach tie in knots as the train whistle blows. You feel the warm of the blood where the barrel digs in. From your cheek to your mouth, you taste the sweat and the tin.

You don’t cry, you don’t beg. You’ve been waiting for this. For the coward, or for death, just to see your wife again. That train is so close, so loud and so clear. Your hands stop shaking and it’s all that you hear. Just like father. “You took him. If this is how it’s going to be then I would rather die at the hands of my own family.”