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The Byronic Man



Cradle Of Filth - The Byronic Man (feat. Ville Valo) - Текст песни

Чайковский в рок-аранжировке! Очень необычно, послушай!
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As lonely as a note on the walls of Jericho 
Or the moon without the comfort of the stars 
I have loathed in knowing that 
A man without a soul 
Is nothing but a still canopic jar 

I proved it 
improved it 
Drove a sonnet 
Right through it 
And in this state of bliss 
Evil keeps me wet lips 
Pen-felt fingertips 
Waged through me 
Far through me 
Inhuman monotamy usually pissed 
but with words of some hurt worse 
i threw a party that extended god's list 

exciting new flames and my fame were claimed for me 
recited by the almanac of tragedies 

They call me bad 
Like caliber we manage danger rush to 
Know a passing fad 
Tell me not to budge 
Insessively candled? 

Grown wild 
This child 
All Humans 
Defiled 
thou stealers and meagers 
Lady liberty and the sisters between her 
Whatever lies a price with lovers dawn 
We've Opened up hell 
its mine bring on your mind 

They call me bad 
Like caliber we manage danger rush to 
To know a passing fad 
Tell me not to budge 
Common I'm Desprite for a kiss now 

Grown colder my shoulder 
Like a boulder beside her 
And brought her 
Not quite so right 
I seem to come out inside her 
They're all done 
We're all done 
Babies breath hold a passionate sigh 
But all i haven't sold 
I've locked and crowed 
If I'm married to the family 
I'd still be married to spite 

theive greive for foreign maps 
i still play vampire aristocrat 
unloaded loaded my gun 
in hot promiscuous laps 
then shooting swans in a gondala 
i tripped my foot on a fallen star 
there is nothing like a mouthful of venetian tar 
to let you know just who you fucking are! 

[Villie] 
The patron saint of heartache 
you Cant see my world is falling 
The world is falling down 
The patron saint of heartache 
Can't see the world is falling 
my world is falling down 

[Dani and Villie] 
Everafter can you hear my laughter 
The patron saint of heartache 
They have a class to better bring disaster 
The Patron saint of heartache 

They call me bad 
Like caliber we manage danger rush to 
To know a passing fad 
twentyhundrend obsesivly candle 

They call me bad 
Like caliber we manage danger rush to 
To know a passing fad 
Whatever part i tear him to 
You better hope it fucking says so 
On my grave
   

Cradle Of Filth - The Byronic Man - ноты

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