A keresés eredménye

That bottle

That bottle which swings at the coast
Will be registered at the post office someday
But now downfall. Now the end of everything finally.
Our mouths will be sewn shut so we wouldn't chitchat.
 
Chorus:
And the sea will dance. Glass will give in to swings.
Some coast still will howl after the bottle and letter.
Some resident will crave after dark lips.
And some words to me will say my friend.
 
The post office will wonder, blush in color of bottle
And since everything is strictly controlled -
Not a minute from working time won't steal,
Will send a parcel to the sea.
(Chorus)
 
That bottle which swings at the coast
Will be registered at the post office someday
But now downfall. Now the end of everything finally.
Our mouths will be sewn shut so we wouldn't chitchat.
(Chorus)
 

Bang the drums, my dears

Do you know, what we are?
Do you know, what is what?
Everything, we desire,
In the end amounts to nothing
 
It's alright, you want to smirk
But there is no time, the sun is setting
In corridors, where commune and found rule
The door bands and is shut
 
Bang the drums, my dears
Clap along, group of brothers
The night is the day of my people
Hey flesh is my spirit
 
Do you know, what we are?
Do you know what is what?
One morning she will rise
With the sun rising, the wind will be sharp
 
The prison is hard, but now softness
And is blue just blue
In my deepest dreams
Each poor man has a castle
 
Inside orders are given and organised
There the war match is prepared
If all goes well woth god's helper
The destruction will change during the feast
 
Do you know, what we are?
Do you know what is what?
One morning she will rise
With the sun rising, the wind will be sharp
 

There’s only a scorching heat

There’s only a scorching heat with a smokey glow,
and countless shadows fall into pieces and fade out.
I write words on a dusty window,
I’m coming to ask for your forgiveness.
 
The dust rises and the sand soars under your feet.
The words on the window quickly disappear.
It’s because I’ve lost my way home
that I’m coming to ask for your forgiveness.
 
I don’t have any water. There are only words
that would not refresh me in that scorching heat,
that look for the gates made of wild orchids
and don’t know another way of quenching the thirst.
 
Maybe that’s why your lips are silent,
and only calm and dust reign all around.
It’s because each of us stands on one’s side of the road
that I’m coming to ask for your forgiveness.