needs a good translation here?
Jim Bellamy SPINE SHAKE
Tun, was mit dir gemacht wird; Tu, was dem Menschen angetan wird. die Welt in ihrem Witwengeist
ist ein Beweis für den Schein des Himmels. So sehr die Liebe
unendlich ist, diese Erde
muss die Sonne treffen. Tu, was dir angetan wird; tun, was kommen wird tun
Was hast du mit dir gemacht? Tu, was dem Menschen angetan wird. schütteln
die Lebensketten,
schick weg
der Betrug Schimären in Fenstern sind weit weniger wert als Liebe. tun
Was hast du mit dir gemacht? tun, was oben gebunden ist.
Tun, was mit dir gemacht wird; tun was
Mann gemacht. Die Wahrheit ist der Tod ist trendlos, die Wahrheit ist der Tod. das
Sloane-Boys unter Wasser werden im Sommer zum Laster gemacht. Tu, was dir angetan wird;
, was Christus getan wird.
Tun, was mit dir gemacht wird; Tu, was dem Menschen angetan wird.
underwave, overwave; egal, alles ist verdammt. Schimären in Fenstern
sind weit weniger wert als Beweise. Tu, was dir angetan
wird; tun, was gemacht wird
Wahrheit.
Tun, was mit dir gemacht wird; Tu, was dem Menschen angetan wird. grüße die Leere, ernte
the shameless - versuche niemals zu verstehen. Schimären
in Fenstern halten
Sicheln
in den Hals von Gott. Tu, was dir angetan wird; Tu was die Seife sinkt. tun was
gemacht zu u; Tu, was dem Menschen angetan wird. Tu das, was dir angetan wird - versuche
es nie
verstehen...
Ich stehe vor deiner Haustür - ich habe diese Haustür einmal gesehen
vor, als ich fünf oder vielleicht zehn war; als ich einen Freund suchte.
bitte
verbrenne mich nicht mit deiner Flamme;
Diese alte Haustür ist alt wie Schmerz &
lädt mich ein, wieder zu geben, meine Mutter zu treffen
..
jdb 2015
..
SPINE SHAKE (original text)
do what's done to u; do what's done to man. the world inside its widow mind
is proof of heaven's
sham. as much as love is endless, this earth
must strike the Sun. do what's done to u; do what's bound to come. do
what's done to u; do what's done to man. shend
the chains of living, send away
the scam. chimeras up in windows are worth far less than love. do
what's done to u; do what's bound above.
do what's done to u; do what's
done to man. truth is death is trendless,
truth is, death's the strand. the
sloane-boys under water are wrought in summer vice. do what's done to u;
do what's done to christ.
do what's done to u; do what's done to man.
underwave,
overwave; doesn't matter, all is damned. chimeras up in windows
are worth far less than proof. do what's done to u; do what's done to
truth.
do what's done to u; do what's done to man. greet
the void, reap
the shameless - never try to understand. chimeras up in windows hold
sickles
to god's throat. do what's done to u; do what sinks the soap. do what's
done
to u; do what's done to man. do what's done to u - never try to
understand...
i'm standing outside your front-door - i've seen that front-door once
before, when i was five or maybe ten; when i was looking for a friend.
please don't burn me with your flame;
this old front-door is old as pain &
invites me to give again,
to meet my mother in the rain.
winding
front-door carry me, carry me where i should be, carry me to time's
concourse, to times
when love was sure as sauce.
standing madly in the
lane, i see such children in my brain; i see them dance & fade away; i see
such kingdoms in delay.
please don't burn
me with your flame; this old
front-door is warm as pain, & invites me to give again; to find new
shelter in death's vein.
winding front-door, carry me, carry me where i
should
be, carry me to time's concourse, to times when love was sane as
sauce.
i'm standing outside your front-door; the cold comes thru me
like before, & i am waiting for your love, for those
who live in domes
above. please don't burn me with your flame; this old front-door is warm
as pain, & invites me to give again, to find dead brothers in light's
skein.
winding
front-door, carry me, carry me where i should be, carry me
to time's concourse, to times when love met hearseward force.
standing on a hill with his
head in a cloud, the man in the shroud moves
outside the crowd, and nobody asks him if he's modest or proud. the man in
the shroud, the man in the shroud.
roundabout the world, this turin child
makes sound, and he makes sounds on empty and he makes sound resound, and
nobody cares to question as his vocal blood sings loud. the man in the
shroud, the man in the shroud -
and he never cares to question as his
shrouded ways descry, and he doesn't care to question how his soul lives in
the sky, and nobody thinks to
wonder why his metalled mortal wrath lies
riven in the centre of a mettled turin cloth.
the man in the shroud. the
man in the shroud, the man in the shroud. laved God in a cloud?
leoni, leoni; i've just met a girl full of macaroni. leoni, leoni; i've
just met a girl full of macaroni.
on pasta heels, leoni's world regales
the trees in search for pearls; regales the sun in search for ships;
regales the cum in search for crypts. leoni, leoni; i've just met a girl
full of macaroni.
leoni, leoni;
i've just met a girl full of pasta pony
leoni baby, leoni blue, roman empires fellow you. leoni baby, leoni child,
roman empires seal your smile, & where the papist thrones refrain into
roman,
caesared veins, down comes time and down goes you, ms. leoni
macaroni blue
leoni, leoni, i've just met a girl full of macaroni
leoni,
leoni. i've just met a girl full of pasta pony. leoni, leoni, leoni
macaroni. goog-goog-a-choo. leoni, full of pony
are we lonely?!
...
jdb 2015