1. |
Lost in White Night
02:51
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For three hundred years
Dressed in burial gowns
Of granite and marble
Of cube and asphalt
Between desolate bunkers
And tubes of subway
We dream of karelian pines
Lost in whit night
And sometimes we dream
That torrents of blood
Rise from ravelins
From forts of Kronstadt
From House number four
From Senate Square
To wash away our sad grave
Lost in white night
Our dream isn‘t endless
We wait for the day
When two-faced sphinx
Will scream out our names
When our copper-clad king
Will call us to rise
And to march with him to the north
Back to white night
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2. |
The Sleep of Reason
04:20
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Our faces on your macabre engravings
Our hearts inside your ghastly chimeras
Our ribs under your wheels
And no reflection in your dim lead mirrors
You’re like the flame of a candle after the candle is blown out
Yet like the strike of lightning burning the forest
You give birth and bring death and devour our bodies
And the sleep of your reason produces our monsters
Our souls under your collapsed rooftops
Our fates in your dusty archives
Our ashes over your bricks
And no truces on your endless frontlines
You’re like the flame of a candle after the candle is blown out
Yet like the strike of lightning burning the forest
You give birth and bring death and devour our bodies
And the sleep of your reason produces our monsters
Our fingers in your unbreakable clutches
Our brains sunk in your sick propaganda
Our screams in your nights
And your soul and our bodies are so wide asunder
You’re like the flame of a candle after the candle is blown out
Yet like the strike of lightning burning the forest
You give birth and bring death and devour our bodies
And the sleep of your reason produces our monsters
You’re like the flame of a candle after the candle is blown out
You hide between blazing glares of glory and treason
You give birth and bring death and devour our bodies
And the sleep of your monsters produces our (tiny) reason
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3. |
Cockroaches
05:48
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All cockroaches turn back to Gregor Samsas
Every door becomes an open window
Every minute breaks the spine of hour
Every breath blows out a sacred symbol
Every pray now smiles to its predator
Every skull enjoys incoming bullet
Every graveyard welcomes desecrator
Every victim pays for being tortured
But every crisis ends with death in summer
Broken clocks are just a useless burden
Sacred symbols fall to sand and crumbled marble
And every salesman turns back to scary vermin.
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4. |
Nietzsche among Wagners
02:30
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I’m afraid of open doors
I walk through the windows
I reject all the truths
But still carve their symbols
I’ve described the unspoken
With bad clumsy rhymes
And I saw the lightening
Striking six times
I’m not a dog on a leash
I’m a wolf without teeth
Not a menacing prophet
Just a fortuneless thief
I bear a resinous torch
Still remaining unseen
And I know all the ciphers
But forgot what I’ve been
I’m a retarded child
In sleepy nirvana
Pretending to play
On the edge of volcano
And at the end of all games
I will stand tall
Until the Age of Bavaria
Covers us all
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5. |
The Meadows of Asphodels
09:28
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On the meadows of asphodels
Ghosts are roaming
Searching for oblivion
Between joy and nothingness
Those whose work is done
Are longing for the rest
No more fear and loneliness
No more drilling pain
Of the burning mind
No more crowds and screaming fools
No more raging dullness
Gathering for attack
To the meadows of asphodels
The greyfaced stroll
In the endless lines
From their unsafe fortresses
From their concrete graves
From their metal hives
No more sloth and vanity
No more hissing swirl
Of banal truths
No more festive stupidity
Of degraded empires
Trudging to their doom
From the meadows of asphodels
Ghosts are rising
Smelling sacrificial blood
From the den of unsure death
They are summoned back
To the womb of mud
There’ll be fear and loneliness
There’ll be sloth and vanity
And drilling pain
There’ll be crowds and screaming fools
And degraded powers
Will rule again
На лугах асфоделий
На лугах асфоделий
На лугах
Асфоделий
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Nietzsche and the Wagners Leipzig, Germany
Nietzsche and the Wagners is a Post-Punk project based in Leipzig, Saxonia. Among the concrete blocks and derelict factories of this post-socialist city NatW have created their own mark of Post-Punk music deeply rooted in its 70es and 80es origins and Eastern European scene of the late 80es, yet open for experiments and unorthodox approach. ... more
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