Pale Roses все тексты (слова) песен, переводы, видео, клипы

Dark ages, times of trouble,
Around us only rubble.
My home and my fatherland,
I’m a soldier, I can understand
There’s a time to fan the fire
And a time to sweep the ashes of desire,
A time to run to Bunker Hill,
A time to love and a time to kill.

The realist looks down on me / but I don't care, no I don't care / 'cause I can see the other world / and it's everywhere / ain't gonna grow up to be your / (change chord here) hairdresser or secretary / Id' rather dance in the moonlight / I'd rather dance in the moonlight / with any woodland fairy... /... A world without dragons / is it what you really crave / then you're sure to lead me / to a very early grave / 'cause it's my hope and will to live / (change chord here) that you smother and bury / when you wanna do away / you just wanna do away / with every woodland fairy... /... Elsie please, let's get home / we'll be back tomorrow / 'cause the night belongs to creatures / you wouldn't like to know / Frances, you can leave me / nothing here is scary / it's where I want to be / and I think I'm gonna be / another woodland fairy X 2

Tonight there's bonfires in the moor,
I don't want to look, I locked the door.
Please don't tell me why the bonfires burn,
It's surely none of my concern.

Bonfires, bonfires in the moor.

Tonight the flames are higher than ever,

I’d rather go to the North Pole,
I’d rather leave and not come back.
My future here is dark as coal,
My memories are carbon black,
My mind is full of sorrow,
Flow slowly, flow my tears,
On the white untrodden snow,
Until the end of my years.

Four winters came, white as any death,
And none succeeded in stealing your breath,
May you live to fight a hundred more,
Each one defeated like the one before.
Four winters, four winters…

When the great leaves fall again,
You won’t grieve, you will never complain,

FROM THE ANCIENT WOODLAND

Inspired by Robert Holdstock

From the ancient woodland
Where heroes were made out of water and sand,
Arise, arise, arise
To save us from the lord of the flies !

Here we are, we are now / In a hall roofed with shields / For we are heroes / We died on battlefields / Give us roasted boar / Strong mead, and we’ll prepare / For Ragnarok, with which / No other battle can compare... /... Here we are, we are now / By the Valkyries chosen / Give us heady wine / And meals ambrosian / When the time has come / To the battle we’ll march / Eight hundred warriors / Under each and every arch / Here we are now / In a hall roofed with shields / For we are heroes / We died on battlefields.

Inspired by the definition of Infidel inThe Devil’s dictionary by Ambrose Bierce (1911)

You can call me a scoundrel
Or the wandering infidel.
Am I profoundly different?
I’m just not reverent.
I don’t require a pope
To give me hope

Tes procès on le sait ne sont pas fondés
Dans tes camps on le sait on supprime sans gants
Elle se dit l'élite des peuples civilisés
Elle pourrait arborer sans aucune gêne la croix gammée
Elle a pour principe de protéger les gens
De leur littérature de leurs pensées de leurs chansons
Elle dit que c'est fondé sur l'esprit de liberté
Elle ne fait que parjurer les traités déjà signés

I am a low-born lass,
From the highlands I descended
To look for Lord Gregory,
I hope you’re not offended.
Since I left home days ago,
It’s been raining buckets on me.
I’ve got to keep my baby warm, please, will you not condone me?

Goddess of the underworld, Loki's daughter dear,
On her treacherous threshold, I have shed a tear,
But she's not prone to pity,
What a cruel entity,
Follow her into the bowels of Niflheim.

Odin has thrown her in a dark infernal sphere,
Where she rules now, with hunger, sickness and fear,

Meet us in the churches
Or in the synagogues,
We answer the call to prayer
Just like Pavlov’s dogs.
We read the gospel daily
Or feed the sacred cow,
When you lead the procession,
We quietly follow.

From Stonehenge to Silbury hill,
I'm proud to be pagan.
I shall do whatever I will,
As long as I can.
And I'm wishing no-one ill,
Not even the Pope,
But I'll take my share till I have my fill,
Just like Julian H. Cope.

There is blood on the snow, my Red Eve,
Where do we go now, where do we go?
I killed your brother. Tell me, do you grieve?
You don't have to, you don’t have to say no,
Red Eve!

My true love's name is Eve Clavering
And it's for penance we had to part,

Inspired by WH Hodgson

There's a fever on the coast, and it's killing children,
We are safer out on the sea where wild horses run,
Sea-horses with tails
Like if they were whales,
Coming and going with the tide.

I’ll meet you in the garden or meet you in the park,
By the Roman ruins before it gets too dark.
We’ll walk between the hedges and the marble cherubim
And talk about the gods, the gentle and the grim.

There are towers all around now, their shadows growing tall,
We’ll meet there in the evening by the tiny waterfall.
We’ll sit on a bench and hold each other tight

A cross-eyed siren is haunting me,
Promising all that I don't need,
Stammering in my head nightly,
She is the deadly greed.

Down to the cities of the plain
Is where the winding path may lead,
No sweeter tyrant would ever reign,

I was there on Palatine hill,
In the summer of 64,
Surrounded by the flames,
Praying for the rain to pour.
Oh! Don't slander Nero,
He didn't light the fire
That burnt the temples to the ground,
He was only playing lyre.

Tamsin Blight, Isobel Goldie,
Mary Butters, Margaret Jones,
This one's for you, not for the clergymen
And their morbid taste for bones.
Their prayers are vain, their warnings too,
I'd rather drink your witch's brew.

Are you a witch of Wicca too ?

THE BOWMEN

Inspired by Arthur Machen’s short story of the same name (1915)

Come on, wounded soldiers,
No longer praying for rest,
Of all Heaven’s bowmen,
Saint George sent you the best.

Inspired by the traditional ballad of the same name

It was the hottest summer evening that we had last year;
That's when I met a man so handsome, perhaps an engineer.
We swam in the river for hours and slept on the bank;
When the sun woke me in the morning, I had no-one to thank.

When winter came, it was obvious, I was heavy with child.

THE RUTTED ROAD

This is a road so many have travelled
Since it started by Basingstoke Canal.
You can hear them or their ghosts,
Their everlasting sad chorale.

You can follow in their footsteps,

Two ravens talk as daylight fades
And battles end in bloody glades,
Now we shall have our dinner soon,
All by the light of the winter moon.

Look over there, is that soldier dead?
The ground around him is all red,
Why isn’t his hound willing to go

Father, wait for me, I’m coming back to Germany / My hands all red with the blood of my enemy / Father, honour your son, thanks to him, the war is won…/... Mother, look at me, close you eyes and hold me tight / Wash my hands till they’re ivory white / Mother, honour your son, thanks to him, the war is won…/... Sister, you can smile, for the red Beast will rape no more / You can keep your child from the things he should ignore / Sister, kiss your brother, thanks to him, the war is over…/... Brother, where were you, when the snow began to fall / I didn’t see you by my side, I didn’t see you at all / Brother, go to hell, because of you, so many fell.