Beethoven: 12 Irish Songs, WoO 154 - No. 4, The Pulse of an Irishman

歌詞

We are the wreckage of eyes Pinpoint the retina scarred The sight is hard to ignore Bliss torn on coat hanger lives Makeshift human form Chalk up the lines, divide yourselves Spit out your intention Bury it under the fence Is this a fragment's glare Soaking up the feeble man's decision to evolve from self? Or just a prophecy forgotten then regained Scrubbing the stain, scrubbing the stain Scrubbing the same stain again Rotten teeth pulled out and then replaced Humble fear Erase this and take me away from this disgrace Restore my grace in the downfall I lay drained mental picture of a fallen race I am a suspect to the fate of our selfish game Hands tied, predator slain And there was nothing to clutch to and no one to question, only hands full of stab wounds of natural selection Stones set on giants to soothe their depression tint on their eyelids to kill the reflection of a... Prophecy forgotten then regained Scrubbing the stain, scrubbing the stain Scrubbing the same stain again Rotten teeth pulled out and then replaced Shelter simplistic Rendered of stone With little resistance We find our home away from home Time to cut you motherfuckers down to size It problem I've been waiting to solve for so long Step through, step out, step back and square off Better retract, you're not even half of what you claim to be You're dead to me for good Fuck everything you've ever dreamed You'll never be as good as the lies you've sold Humble fear Erase this and take me away from this disgrace Restore my grace in the downfall