Obscure Whispers

Should I . . . ?

Painlike Paradise - Katharsis

I speak Enochian, Enochian and in tongues.
My halo a crown - a crown of bones. I wear a robe - a robe of souls
My heart is your world - and hatred lets it grow
I am the purity and temptation, I am the curse I am salvation
I make you blind for your decision.
Messiah Maniac Beast: my mission...
So come to me child, take my hand, look into my eyes -
they show you the promised land,
my eyes are black-black is their gleam prepare for death -the only aim
Unholy Blackened Waters brought forth by rivers deep
poison the wells so viciously they cause nightmarish sleep
As pestilence keeps crawling across the land of dreams
the bloody flood is rising and nothing is as it seems
Hellish Fire - Funeral Skies - Torment - Evil Paradise
Dissonance consumes the silence, war trumpets on our strife
a new march for the realm of HIM, eternal war means life
Enigmatic idols lead the blind. Word from the fire:
Distress, confusion. The end is nigh
Chariot to the bottomless pits, Death's star has risen high
world downfall, opening funeral skies . . . the Painlike Paradise

Band Black Metal teutonica attiva dal '94 dal suono grezzo e ignorante proprio come piace a me :D

Past Seasons, Present Murder

April is the cruelest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee
With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade
And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten,
And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.
Bin gar keine Russin, stamm' aus Litauen, echt deutsch.
And when we were children, staying at the arch-duke's,
My cousin's, he took me out on a sled,
And I was frightened. He said, Marie,
Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
In the mountains, there you feel free.
I read, much of the night, and go south in winter.

The Wasteland - The Burial of the Dead - T. S. Eliot


Ogni tanto non c'è bisogno di molte parole...o semplicemente non ci sono parole che possano esprimere quel fiume in piena che comincia a fluire dalla mente...quel maledetto stream of consciousness che ti porta una sorta d'inquietudine esistenziale che non è nemmeno spiacevole, anzi...estremamente stimolante intellettualmente parlando, ma anche molto stancante per tanti altri versi.
Mi scopro sempre più dura e rigida nei miei giudizi, intollerante nel considerare il genere umano.
Sono sempre stata un'estremista, e il comprendere le sfumature di grigio che stanno tra il bianco e il nero non mi ha certo aiutata a condividerle e accettarle.
Mai tanto come adesso mi rendo conto che il disincanto e la forza di carattere sono una grande arma, e la crudeltà che a volte ne deriva può essere considerata una gran virtù.
Per chi di voi capisce abbastanza bene l'inglese...godetevi questo pezzetto di Eliot, semplicemente meraviglioso e di un livello espressivo che definire altissimo è riduttivo.

Albion

Dreaming Unbearable Wings of Anguish

Cursed

Vaffanculo a sta primavera del cazzo.
Tutti gli anni la stessa storia.
L'unica cosa positiva è che almeno non mangio :°D
Voglio tornare a Milano e voglio tornare a bere la birra buona :°°°°
Voglio togliermi da qua anyway...
Comunque complimentoni a Libero per lo scherzone divertentissimo del pesce d'aprile.
Ah ah mi sto sbellicando dalle risate.

Billy Idol - Rebel Yell

Last night a little dancer
Came dancin to my door
Last night a little angel
Came pumping on the floor
She said a come baby
Ive got a license for love
And if it expires
Pray help from above
Because

In the midnight hour
She cried more, more, more
With a rebel yell
She cried more, more, more
Owww
In the midnight hour, babe
More, more, more
With a rebel yell
More, more, more
More, more, more

She dont like slavery
She wont sit and beg
But when Im tired and lonely
She sees me to bed
What set you free
And brought you to me, babe
What set you free
I need you here by me
Because

In the midnight hour
She cried more, more, more
With a rebel yell
She cried more, more, more
Wowww
In the midnight hour, babe
More, more, more
With a rebel yell
More, more, more

He lives in his own heaven
Collects it to go from the seven eleven
Well hes out all night to collect a fare
Just so long, just so long it dont mess up his hair
Oww ha

I walk the ward for you, babe
A thousand miles with you
I dried your tears of pain
A million times for you
Id sell my soul for you, babe
For money to burn for you
Id give you all and have none, babe
Just a, just a, just a, just a
To have you here by me
Because

In the midnight hour
She cried more, more, more
With a rebel yell
She cried more, more, more
Wowww
In the midnight hour, babe
More, more, more
With a rebel yell
She cried more, more, more
More, more, more

Oo yeah, a little baby
She want more
More, more, more, more, more
Oo yeah, a little angel
She want more
More, more, more, more, more