(I've been trapped here for one hundred years
|
Blood, women and drink have been my only vessels on this vessel
|
Isn't there a way out, now?
|
Brave friend horizon, bring me back to fourteen)
|
|
There's a million ways out of the city
|
I don't know one
|
His way was to pursue birds, with food in their mouths
|
Suitable for humans, snatching from them.
|
Then the birds would follow and snatch it back
|
And they would all go chasing each other gaily for miles
|
Parting at last with mutual expressions of goodwill
|
"Save him, save him", they cried
|
Looking with horror at the cruel sea far below
|
|
We're hanging from our ankles
|
We're hanging from this spot
|
We're hanging from our ankles
|
... From this spot
|
My hand brings you back up on to dreary land,
|
To form our end
|
Form...
|
|
(I've been trapped here for one hundred years
|
Blood, women and drink have been my only vessels on this vessel
|
Isn't there a way out, now?
|
Brave friend horizon, bring me back to fourteen)
|
|
Indeed, a million golden arrows were pointing it out to children
|
All directed by their friendly sign, who wanted them to destroy their way
|
Before leaving them for the night.
|
In an unexplored patch as they rose and they spread,
|
Black shadows began to dawn on them.
|
The roar of the seas took prey, this is quite different now
|
And above all, we'd lost the certainty that you would live
|
When at last it had been steady again, he found himself alone in the darkness.
|
|
We're hanging from our ankles
|
(Is this exactly what you wished for?)
|
We're hanging from this spot
|
(I am through with it all)
|
We're hanging from our ankles
|
(Is this exactly what you wished for?)
|
I am through with it all
|
My hand brings you back up on to dreary land,
|
To form our end
|
Form...
|
|
We're hanging from our ankles
|
(Is this exactly what you wished for?)
|
We're hanging from this spot
|
(I am through with it all)
|
We're hanging from our ankles
|
(Is this exactly what you wished for?)
|
I am through with it all
|
My hand brings you back up on to dreary land,
|
To form our end
|
Form...
|
|
-----------------
|
Act III: Modulate Back To The Tonic
|
| The Sound Of Animals Fighting |
