William Control все тексты (слова) песен, переводы, видео, клипы

Lost a pound of flesh in suicidal dreams
Drugged up on a London city street
I awoke without a name in Hell
Found Scylla and Charybdis
An empty train awaits
Now I'm headed northwest
To the beautiful Manchester Sunset
And now I'm going home

I was a lonely Roman soldier,
Lying on the fields of Mars,
Waiting for your kiss
You were the sun and stars of Venus,
The most magnificent eyes of pale blue I will ever miss,
Then you turned away,
The sky went black and grey,
And your betrayal… Has killed me… Has killed me,

Live through the ages
Witness my friends rust and turn to ash Break down in phases
And yet my skin is perfect glass
I have kept this portrait in pristine care
I have kept my secret well
Until the day comes when the loneliness
Is oh too much to bare

I am programmed inside of you
Nothing can break me loose
I am here to stay, an electrical reseam in your blood
Don't you love all that I've given you
You're my love

I am programmed, illustrating life on the inside
I will stay, author of the pain you hold so dear

Oh I felt alive for the first time today, I wonder why

I dance right through the grave where they laid my bones to praise for old times

And all the faces lie, In a crowd of strangers

Now I’m free at last

Lovers and sinners
Suffering hate
Imagine a world without pain
Lovers and sinners
Suffering hate
Imagine a world without me

Why are you so damaged , so broken, so completely repellent?

I can be your Jesus
I can double your salvation
And as you weep
Oh you’ll die for me

I can be your savior
I can promise you eternal light
All you need is my love

We walked through the fire blazing all around us

Well she stood there covered in ash

With a lonely look repaired do you want to save

I wrapped my arms around her

I’ve spent a lifetime crossing this culture Your sea of hate Others who found god grey existing cold Let’s all rejoice in the end times
Of sorrow and grief And an ocean of love I can stare into a soul I can stare into the sun Yeah I want my life to begin All I have to do, is let the right one in
I’m only human sometimes I am the king of disorder I’m only human sometimes The sins of the father
The sins of the flesh tonight
I’m not as ugly as I once was I’m not as shameful as I used to be Open your eyes boy Open up the dream Yeah I want my life to begin All I have to do, is let the right one in
I am usually distracted by the noise within my head, I have tried for so long to remove the piec- es of clutter but have found no solution but to merely exist with these strangers, the mountains I move with one stroke of a pen are heavy, soon I won’t have the strength in my bones to kill a fly, I need to leave this place, I need to leave this place surrounded by fear, engulfed by flames, endorsed by the most putrid, disgusting, despi- cable hatred that does exist....
We can find our way.
I’m only human I’m just a lie I’m only human sometimes

I was Judas
You were the kiss
I was Wilde
You are the prison
Yeah, I wrote this suffering
Inside the walls of my despair

Hate, I would forever lie
I would fake all the times
That you broke me down misery
Hate, covered in broken glass
My skeleton bones will last
Far beyond flowers and dust
So where would I be?

You want to abuse me
I want to be used by you
I want to seduce forever
You want to abuse me
I want to be used by you
Love is ugly only stupid people suffer forever

(Chorus)

She’s chained to the wall and knows her place within his violence
Her lashes blue and black and oh how she adores him
He loves her fear and as she wept
She applies her misery
He’s kept her locked inside a pallid place of worship
A valid dungeon filled with perfect iron curtains
He loves her fear She does weep
She’ll scream for more

I am near the end I’ve accomplished nothing
And when I fall into the sky oblivion
I am on the edge
No strength to fly
And when I look into the screen I see your eyes
You are a beautiful noir
Cinematic film
That only I see

I don’t know the difference, between love and sorrow.
My optimist opinion, for the brave new world we’re searching for.
But I’ll stand here, holding your head, under water.
And as you slip away, please remember this, I’ve always hated you.

I don’t know the difference between lies and chivalry.
And your blood ran cold, and the brave new world was gone.
But I’m still standing here, watching you die.

The chateau into which my valet had ventured to make forcible entrance, rather than permit me, in my desperately wounded condition, to pass a night in the open air, was one of those piles of commingled gloom and grandeur which have so long frowned among the Appennines, not less in fact than in the fancy of Mrs. Radcliffe. To all appearance it had been temporarily and very lately abandoned. We established ourselves in one of the smallest and least sumptuously furnished apartments. It lay in a remote turret of the building. Its decorations were rich, yet tattered and antique. Its walls were hung with tapestry and bedecked with manifold and multiform armorial trophies, together with an unusually great number of very spirited modern paintings in frames of rich golden arabesque. In these paintings, which depended from the walls not only in their main surfaces, but in very many nooks which the bizarre architecture of the chateau rendered necessary—in these paintings my incipient delirium, perhaps, had caused me to take deep interest; so that I bade Pedro to close the heavy shutters of the room—since it was already night—to light the tongues of a tall candelabrum which stood by the head of my bed—and to throw open far and wide the fringed curtains of black velvet which enveloped the bed itself. I wished all this done that I might resign myself, if not to sleep, at least alternately to the contemplation of these pictures, and the perusal of a small volume which had been found upon the pillow, and which purported to criticise and describe them.
Long—long I read—and devoutly, devotedly I gazed. Rapidly and gloriously the hours flew by and the deep midnight came. The position of the candelabrum displeased me, and outreaching my hand with difficulty, rather than disturb my slumbering valet, I placed it so as to throw its rays more fully upon the book.
But the action produced an effect altogether unanticipated. The rays of the numerous candles (for there were many) now fell within a niche of the room which had hitherto been thrown into deep shade by one of the bed-posts. I thus saw in vivid light a picture all unnoticed before. It was the portrait of a young girl just ripening into womanhood. I glanced at the painting hurriedly, and then closed my eyes. Why I did this was not at first apparent even to my own perception. But while my lids remained thus shut, I ran over in my mind my reason for so shutting them. It was an impulsive movement to gain time for thought—to make sure that my vision had not deceived me—to calm and subdue my fancy for a more sober and more certain gaze. In a very few moments I again looked fixedly at the painting.
That I now saw aright I could not and would not doubt; for the first flashing of the candles upon that canvas had seemed to dissipate the dreamy stupor which was stealing over my senses, and to startle me at once into waking life.
The portrait, I have already said, was that of a young girl. It was a mere head and shoulders, done in what is technically termed a vignette manner; much in the style of the favorite heads of Sully. The arms, the bosom, and even the ends of the radiant hair melted imperceptibly into the vague yet deep shadow which formed the back-ground of the whole. The frame was oval, richly gilded and filigreed in Moresque. As a thing of art nothing could be more admirable than the painting itself. But it could have been neither the execution of the work, nor the immortal beauty of the countenance, which had so suddenly and so vehemently moved me. Least of all, could it have been that my fancy, shaken from its half slumber, had mistaken the head for that of a living person. I saw at once that the peculiarities of the design, of the vignetting, and of the frame, must have instantly dispelled such idea—must have prevented even its momentary entertainment. Thinking earnestly upon these points, I remained, for an hour perhaps, half sitting, half reclining, with my vision riveted upon the portrait. At length, satisfied with the true secret of its effect, I fell back within the bed

ONCE upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visiter," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door—
Only this, and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,

this is not a game we play
this is our reality
this is not a game we play
oh

oh in the fire of the night
would you stay?
oh in the fire of the night

Tranquilize

Hey little sister
Are you ready to dance in the dark
Can you believe and defy death?
it's only skin and bones blood in red
In this rotting flesh
Hey little sister