So this is the country song we recorded yesterday
Well there was this young boy
This good ol' Johnny Dew
He shot down his own mother
And killed his brother too
But he did want no money
No reputation, no job
He did it for the simple thrill
Of shooting his own ma!
Johnny Dew! Johnny Dew!
Now tell me who's that in your stew?
Johnny Dew! Johnny Dew!
Now what you're gonna brew?
After shooting his own mother
He put her in a stew
He ate her with good appetite
Said "She was damn good!"
Now the poor Johnny
Is a cannibal too
Who will be the next victim
In Johnny Dew's stew?
Johnny Dew! Johnny Dew!
Now tell me who's that in your stew?
Johnny Dew! Johnny Dew!
Now what you're gonna brew?
There was this old sheriff
He rode into the town
With a single 100 dollar bill
And a simple will to plow
He came across Johnny
who shot him down too
It seems that there's no match
For the good old Johnny Dew!
And here's the Finnish version:
Oli nuori poika lännestä
Yks Joni Virta vain
Kunnes tunnetuks tuli siitä
Kun äitinsä tappoi
Ei vuoks rahan, eikä maineen
Ei kai duuninkaan
Hän perheensä tappoi
Kai maun vuoksi vaan
Veri virtaa, veri virtaa!
Missä Joni Virta ratsastaa
Veri virtaa, veri virtaa!
Kenet pataas laitat kiehumaan?
Ja äitinsä jälkeen
Oli veljen vuoro kuolla
Ei tarvinnut Jonin
Enää näppejään nuolla
Vaikka aikanaan vannoi
Ettei perhettään lyö
On tuo piru parka
Nyt kannibaali myös
Veri virtaa, veri virtaa!
Missä Joni Virta ratsastaa
Veri virtaa, veri virtaa!
Kenet pataas laitat kiehumaan?
Vanha sheriffi saapui
Illan tullen kaupunkiin
Hän köyhä oli varoiltaan
Vaan ei kai mieleltään
Hän Joniin siellä törmäs
Se loppu hänen ol
Näyttää siltä että
Joni taitaa olla voittamaton!
tiistai 30. marraskuuta 2010
lauantai 27. marraskuuta 2010
Mindless Brainfart.
This world makes me sick. Don't get me wrong. I may sound a nihilist little kid, but I just tried to grab your attention. Propably the first line did it, so now that I've got your attention, you can as well continue reading. I do not HATE the world. I hate most of you, and that is only for the simple reason that you all stand between me and the world. World itself is a beautiful, diverse place with so much imagination that even a legion of gods, not to talk about one, could ever come up with such variety. At least I think so. At best, this world is a beautiful planet in bloom, glowing and blooming. At worst, it is the Home of Men. Tom Waits had an album, that I think describes man's world the best: Bone Machine. That is what the world really is, when our species will be done with it. A ball of stone covered with bones and sheets of skin. It spreads as far as your eyes can see, endless fields of bones and skin, vultures scavenging everything they can use as food. Rats and other pests everywhere, this will be the kingdom of rats.
I hope we never come this far, but when our thirst for blood and revenge being what it seems to be, I think this New world as a Bone Machine will be inevitable. Well, not inevitable, but we are now living the moments, that define our future. We must learn to let go, to achieve mutual understanding, stop biting the hands that feed us, and learn to understand several things about this world. First, we are not alone. There are other beautiful human beings with their individual psychological thought-patterns and histories, and usually they are able to think for theirselves. We need to really communicate and switch thoughts, in order to develop as species. We must learn to learn from our mistakes. We must learn to recognize our mistakes. Second, Not every new thing is good. Most of our new utilities and achievements are completely bullshit. We will get rid of them in time, I hope. Facebook for example is mainly a bad thing, which reminds me a lot of the Orwell's 1984, the scene where they discuss about linquistic suppression and degeneration of human emotions. When you have no words to describe your emotions, you eventually lose the emotion. Third, As long as there are nuclear weapons, there's a chance to use them. As long as there's a chance to use them, we are in danger. It is somewhat terrifying to think that a single buttons and MAD (Mutual Assured Destruction) Can turn this place to dust in hours. I don't want that, biblical apocalypse. We tend to see time as a line, becouse the whole western world is manipulated by Christian philosophy, that sees everything in 2D. In east time is considered a sphere, that turns and repeats itself. Lately I've been trying to understand time, and especially memories. have we been able to time travel all along, without even understanding it? Maybe, when we relive a memory, we actually visit the time and place. Maybe that is time traveling. This sort of things fascinate me. I am always amazed by the beauty of this world, so please, please, please, please, Don't destroy it.
I hope we never come this far, but when our thirst for blood and revenge being what it seems to be, I think this New world as a Bone Machine will be inevitable. Well, not inevitable, but we are now living the moments, that define our future. We must learn to let go, to achieve mutual understanding, stop biting the hands that feed us, and learn to understand several things about this world. First, we are not alone. There are other beautiful human beings with their individual psychological thought-patterns and histories, and usually they are able to think for theirselves. We need to really communicate and switch thoughts, in order to develop as species. We must learn to learn from our mistakes. We must learn to recognize our mistakes. Second, Not every new thing is good. Most of our new utilities and achievements are completely bullshit. We will get rid of them in time, I hope. Facebook for example is mainly a bad thing, which reminds me a lot of the Orwell's 1984, the scene where they discuss about linquistic suppression and degeneration of human emotions. When you have no words to describe your emotions, you eventually lose the emotion. Third, As long as there are nuclear weapons, there's a chance to use them. As long as there's a chance to use them, we are in danger. It is somewhat terrifying to think that a single buttons and MAD (Mutual Assured Destruction) Can turn this place to dust in hours. I don't want that, biblical apocalypse. We tend to see time as a line, becouse the whole western world is manipulated by Christian philosophy, that sees everything in 2D. In east time is considered a sphere, that turns and repeats itself. Lately I've been trying to understand time, and especially memories. have we been able to time travel all along, without even understanding it? Maybe, when we relive a memory, we actually visit the time and place. Maybe that is time traveling. This sort of things fascinate me. I am always amazed by the beauty of this world, so please, please, please, please, Don't destroy it.
perjantai 26. marraskuuta 2010
Urban Predator
Strange how all these different little things seem to batter up
Explode, release, let go
See the flip side of everyday life, every day it dies
See the dark side of the common man
Your neighbourgh becomes an urban predator.
You become the common prey.
Lets switch sides? Please?
I'm calm. I keep my cool. But under my skin there's a world war two, a vulgar display of our brutal days, the ways to torture, to clean. And deep inside the insight of what is yet to come. The worst. The uprising of all battered things, they all point towards to a cleared table turned upside down in a room full of hate and disappointment. Well, that sounds a bit cruel, but is too good to be true. I know that the road we both travel is paved with lies and deception and mankind's own guilt. So tell me, what use it is to cry over milk once spilled? Lets just rejoice it was only milk. It could have been as well the blood that we bled when we tried to gather up the information we thought would be a necessity but proved to be just... Crushing, instead.
Enough of that shit.
We need to explode, to release, to let go
To change the fuse that we can continue to refuse
To do all these things our beloved asked us to do a while ago.
our predators living next door to us.
Our predators smiling to get to know us.
I don't trust them. I just don't trust anyone.
You're all bunch of predators.
And I am the prey....
And now all the little piggies at play...
Explode, release, let go
See the flip side of everyday life, every day it dies
See the dark side of the common man
Your neighbourgh becomes an urban predator.
You become the common prey.
Lets switch sides? Please?
I'm calm. I keep my cool. But under my skin there's a world war two, a vulgar display of our brutal days, the ways to torture, to clean. And deep inside the insight of what is yet to come. The worst. The uprising of all battered things, they all point towards to a cleared table turned upside down in a room full of hate and disappointment. Well, that sounds a bit cruel, but is too good to be true. I know that the road we both travel is paved with lies and deception and mankind's own guilt. So tell me, what use it is to cry over milk once spilled? Lets just rejoice it was only milk. It could have been as well the blood that we bled when we tried to gather up the information we thought would be a necessity but proved to be just... Crushing, instead.
Enough of that shit.
We need to explode, to release, to let go
To change the fuse that we can continue to refuse
To do all these things our beloved asked us to do a while ago.
our predators living next door to us.
Our predators smiling to get to know us.
I don't trust them. I just don't trust anyone.
You're all bunch of predators.
And I am the prey....
And now all the little piggies at play...
Bricks and Pieces
Fractions, bits and pieces of myself
Of the brick wall I call me.
Suddenly instead of being the wall
I'm this huge wrecking ball.
My worst critic.
Ready to tear myself apart
Limb from limb.
First the legs.
The base of being me
The cynicism I carry with me
Which I thought to be an essential part of me
I let go of it. At least most of it.
Then the arms.
The tools of self-expression.
The right arm, the visual art.
The left arm, the music.
Cut the crap, focus on the real things.
Which of this really belongs to me?
Which is really me.
I am not that warm and kind person
I'd like to be.
Just the other day I heard I scared a guy
Who just said hi to my girlfriend.
I don't even recognize it,
So if my eyes could give you a cancer
That would have not been even of a lethal kind
I can do that too. I can make you fear me.
In a split of a second I can go all flames and teeth and nails.
I got it from my grandma. She is just something extraordinary.
She asks how you're doing.
Answer something close to "I dunno", and she'll explode on you.
She is this massive amount of nuclear energy
Concealed behind a pair of green eyes.
I love her for that.
I love the world too much to let it slip from me.
Always have. Always will.
Of the brick wall I call me.
Suddenly instead of being the wall
I'm this huge wrecking ball.
My worst critic.
Ready to tear myself apart
Limb from limb.
First the legs.
The base of being me
The cynicism I carry with me
Which I thought to be an essential part of me
I let go of it. At least most of it.
Then the arms.
The tools of self-expression.
The right arm, the visual art.
The left arm, the music.
Cut the crap, focus on the real things.
Which of this really belongs to me?
Which is really me.
I am not that warm and kind person
I'd like to be.
Just the other day I heard I scared a guy
Who just said hi to my girlfriend.
I don't even recognize it,
So if my eyes could give you a cancer
That would have not been even of a lethal kind
I can do that too. I can make you fear me.
In a split of a second I can go all flames and teeth and nails.
I got it from my grandma. She is just something extraordinary.
She asks how you're doing.
Answer something close to "I dunno", and she'll explode on you.
She is this massive amount of nuclear energy
Concealed behind a pair of green eyes.
I love her for that.
I love the world too much to let it slip from me.
Always have. Always will.
Life
We're torn apart
From the flesh that gives us birth
The dear womb that
carries us for nine long months
Torn apart, away from the safe reality
Disillusions undressed with sheer brutality
And with this blade
You are parted from your eternal life
And from this on
Your meaning is to die
Our early days disillusioned
Safe fall to this mortal path
Our suffering eased with lies
our parents use to calm us down
Until one day we find out
The truth we fear so much
One day our life will end
One day our flesh will be dirt
Our hands are tied with our own bones
Our hearts are chained together with our sins
Your finest days well passed
From now on just endless downhill
You see your own offsprings
Rise behind you and take control
So now you're gray and wise
All your friends have passed away
You are all alone in your wisdom
So now you see the truth
The simpliest answer there was
Our sins paid with our knowledge
Our bodies turned to dirt
The fullfilment, our redemption
Our flesh to serve the purpose
Lifeless eyes see no suffering
We used to worry about
Our awarenesses shut
The end in all it's terrifying glory.
From the flesh that gives us birth
The dear womb that
carries us for nine long months
Torn apart, away from the safe reality
Disillusions undressed with sheer brutality
And with this blade
You are parted from your eternal life
And from this on
Your meaning is to die
Our early days disillusioned
Safe fall to this mortal path
Our suffering eased with lies
our parents use to calm us down
Until one day we find out
The truth we fear so much
One day our life will end
One day our flesh will be dirt
Our hands are tied with our own bones
Our hearts are chained together with our sins
Your finest days well passed
From now on just endless downhill
You see your own offsprings
Rise behind you and take control
So now you're gray and wise
All your friends have passed away
You are all alone in your wisdom
So now you see the truth
The simpliest answer there was
Our sins paid with our knowledge
Our bodies turned to dirt
The fullfilment, our redemption
Our flesh to serve the purpose
Lifeless eyes see no suffering
We used to worry about
Our awarenesses shut
The end in all it's terrifying glory.
Introduction to the Corporate World, a Short Story About Freedom.
Somehow writing in general has always been more natural to me, when I do it in English, in spite of my first language being Finnish. Still, at the times I notice that I've been thinking in English for the last few hours, so I guess I was just altered to massive amounts of this global tongue when I was a kid, sitting in front of my first nintendo and playing Super Mario and such games, where you just had to figure out the meaning of the unknown words on the screen. I think I'm doing quite well by now. Here's one of my older works of fart.
Introduction to the Corporate World, A Short Story About Freedom.
I am a by-product of your society.
I am a complete maniac without the everyday must-haves
such as patience, ambition, greed and ability to shut my mouth.
As I stand here on the field, carrying an half-empty can of gas and a bag on my back,
I can't help thinking the surprise on my boss' face when he wakes up
in his burning house approximately 3.50 am this very same night.
Half-empty. That is so typical me. Always Half-empty. Always.
Oh, and of course there's a possibility my boss won't wake up.
He's running against time, running against the toxic fumes that fill the room
Cunningly, climb up the walls and jump in to his lungs, replace the sweet oxygen
he so desperately needs.
I hear the voices, I see the house, I smell the gas.
My fingers are aching for all the work I've done during these last painful weeks, and for what?
For no apparent reason! Just to make sure my boss can have his bigger garage.
What do I profit of my work? Barely nothing. It keeps me alive, it pays my rent and food,
I survive. It also makes sure that I am not able to do actually anything. I can sit home, numb my mind and watch TV. Then, eventually fall asleep and wake up for work. It is the miserable circulation of my days. This is my life. And I fucking hate it. I despise it with every single muscle I have in my body,
And Now I have had enough of it. I have had enough of that miserable office, enough of those happy-painted faces that sit in their cages and accept their fate, enough of my apartment, enough of my "friends" and most of all; I have had enough of my boss.
This is what happens eventually, when you put people in to locked up little cages. Some depress, some accept, some rebel. Well... Take a guess, will ya?
It's getting colder, but I don't feel a thing as I approach the lonesome house across the field. I am so fucking excited, dopamine levels soaring high, all my senses ready to focus on the upcoming act of violence and hate. It is purely freedom. Slave breaks free and burns down his boss' house, and that miserable little faggot with it. Probably his last thoughts will be something like "No, my sweet, expensive Armani suits are on fire!" When the flames are ready to engulf his miserable remains, he'll be still thinking about his deposits, cars, all that expensive trash he has in his fucking house! It'll all be burned down tonight. His plastic wife, his perfect kids, his perfect, successful life, it'll all be gone tomorrow.
I am a by-product of this world. I am the living proof of what happens when you kick people around. I am the fucking living, breathing Hand of Karma. I am the Fist of Justice. I am the Flames of Truth. I am the absence of sense in this world of complete lack of chaos. I am the end.
I'm getting closer and I check my pocket. Yep, still six more bullets. Just in case there would happen to be any problems. I know there won't. I know my boss. I have studied him closely during the last two months. I know his nearest neighbors are on their annual vacation. My soon-to-be-victims are alone. My chains will soon be gone. I am the ghost, the last one to be suspected when the time will come. I am a complete fucking nobody. I mostly just stay out of the way and observe the world. I am an observer. I gather information. All the time. I am a supercomputer. I am god. And soon I will be an arsonist too. I'm here. I could try to describe the excitement, but you still wouldn't understand. You've never been caught doing anything illegal, you have no clue about how I feel right now! This is fucking incredible! My heart is racing, my veins try to pump the blood up to my brains, which are too busy sending messages allover my body to even stop for a second and take a deep breath of the oxygen my blood has delivered only for their needs. My hands are shaking, knees go week, I feel nauseous and yet, this is the greatest moment of my life! I am devious. I am not normal. You might think sooner or later the guilt would kick in, but it won't. I have no use for such term. I have never felt guilt in my life. I take three empty bottles from my bag and carefully fill them up. Obviously, I'm wearing a pair of black gloves all the time. I may be a psycho, but I'm not stupid. I am actually the most intelligent, the most beautiful being to walk this earth. At least I feel like it right now. The bottles are full. I handle them carefully, like my own kids. Well actually a lot better than I would treat my kids if I happened to have any. These are lot more than some stupid miniature failures of your and someone else's genes. These are my three, beautiful white doves. Doves of freedom, ready to fly in to my boss' house and set me free. My three, beautiful Birds of anarchy. My violent little doves. Something's missing....ah! the wings! I pull white cloth, one of my three shirts I wear at work, and rip it into three pieces. I soak them with gasoline, and tie wrap them around bottles. Carefully. This is my one-way-ticket to freedom. There they are. My three, beautiful kids. Smelly little rascals ready to fly away from home already. Kids. They grow up so fast these days. With shaking hands I reach towards my left pocket, and take the lighter. One by one, I light them up and throw them towards freedom. CRASH! First window broken first bottle reached it's goal, the bedroom. I instantly hear the surprised screams of terror and disbelief. There's practically no way they could escape now. The second bird spreads it's burning wings. CRASH! It hits the living room, windows and lands just where I want it, at the lower end of the only staircase in the house! I start to howl, so beautiful is this moment of my redemption! I will be free by dawn! The expensive, synthetic furniture my boss was so proud about, is now being turned against him. You see, synthetic fabrics are extra flammable, and easily catch the flame and proudly carry on my message: I WILL BE FREE! I dance around like a complete maniac and light up my last bird. She flies. I aimed at the garage, but slightly miss it. That's what you get when you get too confident! CRASH! My last bird explodes against the roof of garage, and the flames reach for the night. What a beautiful sight! This is fucking incredible! Every cell in my body tells me that I'm finally free! BURN VICTIM! I hear the cries of my boss and his family..BURN VICTIM! This is beauty in it's own right, something clean and pure, something I've always wanted- Balance. Karma fulfilled. Nirvana. I calm down a bit, for I don't have much time. I gather my stuff carefully, and start to run. I run all the way back home, and stop only to vomit on the way. I regurgitate out all the shit I have carried with me for all my life, I dispose all of it from my system. I run home, close the door. I'm exhausted. I fall flat on my face, and fall asleep. For the first time in my whole life I do not see nightmares. I am whole. I am complete. I am blank canvas to paint. Tabula Rasa, indeed.
Introduction to the Corporate World, A Short Story About Freedom.
I am a by-product of your society.
I am a complete maniac without the everyday must-haves
such as patience, ambition, greed and ability to shut my mouth.
As I stand here on the field, carrying an half-empty can of gas and a bag on my back,
I can't help thinking the surprise on my boss' face when he wakes up
in his burning house approximately 3.50 am this very same night.
Half-empty. That is so typical me. Always Half-empty. Always.
Oh, and of course there's a possibility my boss won't wake up.
He's running against time, running against the toxic fumes that fill the room
Cunningly, climb up the walls and jump in to his lungs, replace the sweet oxygen
he so desperately needs.
I hear the voices, I see the house, I smell the gas.
My fingers are aching for all the work I've done during these last painful weeks, and for what?
For no apparent reason! Just to make sure my boss can have his bigger garage.
What do I profit of my work? Barely nothing. It keeps me alive, it pays my rent and food,
I survive. It also makes sure that I am not able to do actually anything. I can sit home, numb my mind and watch TV. Then, eventually fall asleep and wake up for work. It is the miserable circulation of my days. This is my life. And I fucking hate it. I despise it with every single muscle I have in my body,
And Now I have had enough of it. I have had enough of that miserable office, enough of those happy-painted faces that sit in their cages and accept their fate, enough of my apartment, enough of my "friends" and most of all; I have had enough of my boss.
This is what happens eventually, when you put people in to locked up little cages. Some depress, some accept, some rebel. Well... Take a guess, will ya?
It's getting colder, but I don't feel a thing as I approach the lonesome house across the field. I am so fucking excited, dopamine levels soaring high, all my senses ready to focus on the upcoming act of violence and hate. It is purely freedom. Slave breaks free and burns down his boss' house, and that miserable little faggot with it. Probably his last thoughts will be something like "No, my sweet, expensive Armani suits are on fire!" When the flames are ready to engulf his miserable remains, he'll be still thinking about his deposits, cars, all that expensive trash he has in his fucking house! It'll all be burned down tonight. His plastic wife, his perfect kids, his perfect, successful life, it'll all be gone tomorrow.
I am a by-product of this world. I am the living proof of what happens when you kick people around. I am the fucking living, breathing Hand of Karma. I am the Fist of Justice. I am the Flames of Truth. I am the absence of sense in this world of complete lack of chaos. I am the end.
I'm getting closer and I check my pocket. Yep, still six more bullets. Just in case there would happen to be any problems. I know there won't. I know my boss. I have studied him closely during the last two months. I know his nearest neighbors are on their annual vacation. My soon-to-be-victims are alone. My chains will soon be gone. I am the ghost, the last one to be suspected when the time will come. I am a complete fucking nobody. I mostly just stay out of the way and observe the world. I am an observer. I gather information. All the time. I am a supercomputer. I am god. And soon I will be an arsonist too. I'm here. I could try to describe the excitement, but you still wouldn't understand. You've never been caught doing anything illegal, you have no clue about how I feel right now! This is fucking incredible! My heart is racing, my veins try to pump the blood up to my brains, which are too busy sending messages allover my body to even stop for a second and take a deep breath of the oxygen my blood has delivered only for their needs. My hands are shaking, knees go week, I feel nauseous and yet, this is the greatest moment of my life! I am devious. I am not normal. You might think sooner or later the guilt would kick in, but it won't. I have no use for such term. I have never felt guilt in my life. I take three empty bottles from my bag and carefully fill them up. Obviously, I'm wearing a pair of black gloves all the time. I may be a psycho, but I'm not stupid. I am actually the most intelligent, the most beautiful being to walk this earth. At least I feel like it right now. The bottles are full. I handle them carefully, like my own kids. Well actually a lot better than I would treat my kids if I happened to have any. These are lot more than some stupid miniature failures of your and someone else's genes. These are my three, beautiful white doves. Doves of freedom, ready to fly in to my boss' house and set me free. My three, beautiful Birds of anarchy. My violent little doves. Something's missing....ah! the wings! I pull white cloth, one of my three shirts I wear at work, and rip it into three pieces. I soak them with gasoline, and tie wrap them around bottles. Carefully. This is my one-way-ticket to freedom. There they are. My three, beautiful kids. Smelly little rascals ready to fly away from home already. Kids. They grow up so fast these days. With shaking hands I reach towards my left pocket, and take the lighter. One by one, I light them up and throw them towards freedom. CRASH! First window broken first bottle reached it's goal, the bedroom. I instantly hear the surprised screams of terror and disbelief. There's practically no way they could escape now. The second bird spreads it's burning wings. CRASH! It hits the living room, windows and lands just where I want it, at the lower end of the only staircase in the house! I start to howl, so beautiful is this moment of my redemption! I will be free by dawn! The expensive, synthetic furniture my boss was so proud about, is now being turned against him. You see, synthetic fabrics are extra flammable, and easily catch the flame and proudly carry on my message: I WILL BE FREE! I dance around like a complete maniac and light up my last bird. She flies. I aimed at the garage, but slightly miss it. That's what you get when you get too confident! CRASH! My last bird explodes against the roof of garage, and the flames reach for the night. What a beautiful sight! This is fucking incredible! Every cell in my body tells me that I'm finally free! BURN VICTIM! I hear the cries of my boss and his family..BURN VICTIM! This is beauty in it's own right, something clean and pure, something I've always wanted- Balance. Karma fulfilled. Nirvana. I calm down a bit, for I don't have much time. I gather my stuff carefully, and start to run. I run all the way back home, and stop only to vomit on the way. I regurgitate out all the shit I have carried with me for all my life, I dispose all of it from my system. I run home, close the door. I'm exhausted. I fall flat on my face, and fall asleep. For the first time in my whole life I do not see nightmares. I am whole. I am complete. I am blank canvas to paint. Tabula Rasa, indeed.
I added more of the lyrics I've written
This is almost all the recorded stuff I've done, I think there's some more, but since my computer crashed and everything went down with it a while ago, I decided that I really need an external database such as this. No matter what I do, I'll put it here, becouse I'd probably lose them in some point. So, if you want to discuss about some of the stuff or comment something, I'll be happy to do so, but mainly this is a collected lyrics I've done, am doing, and will do in the future. And I really need this sort of thing, for I lost almost 800 pages of lyrics, "poems" and other vain shit. So here it is. Oh, here's two more, the first one is some sort of tribute to my grandmother who passed away about a week ago.. The second is a Finnish translation of Tom Waits' song Dirt in the Ground I may be recording in the near future..
GOODBYE
You were strong
Stronger than I'll ever be
I can't take this
We all gave up on you..
Goodbye..
And good night
This will be my first night knowing
That you'll never sleep
I'm glad you're now free
But it's sad you had to leave so soon
I would have wanted you to teach my kids
All the things you taught me so well..
We were all together
Not too long ago
And I remember you
Tired of all the pain
Goodbye..
You were always strong
Smile through the walls of pain
You always had the time
And you'll never die
And you'll never die
And you'll never die
MAAN MULTAA VAAN
Paljonko on väliä
Sä mistä unelmoit
Me vieri viereen samaan maahan
Päädymme kai
Sun sielus ei sua jätä
Ei naamaas tunnista
Ja vaan syystuuli jää sun muistoks
Soittelemaan
Ja meistä kaikista tulee..
Ja meistä kaikista tulee
Maan multaa vaan.
Tuomiomme jälkeen
Veri sanan kirjoittaa
Tahdon tietää oonko lintu
Vaiko matonen maan.
On taivaspaikat menneet
Helvettikin täynnä on
Meidät kahlittu on maahan
Ja vedettävä on..
Ja meistä kaikista tulee...
ja meistä kaikista tulee
Maan multaa vaan
Murhamies vain nauroi
On hermot rautaa kai
Hän astui ylös portaat
Ja köyden kaulaan sai
Ja ihmiset vain hirnui
Huus murhanhimoissaan
Kun henki ruumiin jätti
Kuulin hänen kuiskaavan
Meistä kaikista tulee...
Maan multaa vaan.
Niin veli tappoi toisen
Hän kivel päähän löi
Taivas repes auki,
Raivoisasti salamoi
Varrel kuolleitten virran
Voiko väsyneet elää?
Otat kuninkaan tai varkaan
Saman vastauksen saat
Meistä kaikista tulee...
Maan multaa vaan
GOODBYE
You were strong
Stronger than I'll ever be
I can't take this
We all gave up on you..
Goodbye..
And good night
This will be my first night knowing
That you'll never sleep
I'm glad you're now free
But it's sad you had to leave so soon
I would have wanted you to teach my kids
All the things you taught me so well..
We were all together
Not too long ago
And I remember you
Tired of all the pain
Goodbye..
You were always strong
Smile through the walls of pain
You always had the time
And you'll never die
And you'll never die
And you'll never die
MAAN MULTAA VAAN
Paljonko on väliä
Sä mistä unelmoit
Me vieri viereen samaan maahan
Päädymme kai
Sun sielus ei sua jätä
Ei naamaas tunnista
Ja vaan syystuuli jää sun muistoks
Soittelemaan
Ja meistä kaikista tulee..
Ja meistä kaikista tulee
Maan multaa vaan.
Tuomiomme jälkeen
Veri sanan kirjoittaa
Tahdon tietää oonko lintu
Vaiko matonen maan.
On taivaspaikat menneet
Helvettikin täynnä on
Meidät kahlittu on maahan
Ja vedettävä on..
Ja meistä kaikista tulee...
ja meistä kaikista tulee
Maan multaa vaan
Murhamies vain nauroi
On hermot rautaa kai
Hän astui ylös portaat
Ja köyden kaulaan sai
Ja ihmiset vain hirnui
Huus murhanhimoissaan
Kun henki ruumiin jätti
Kuulin hänen kuiskaavan
Meistä kaikista tulee...
Maan multaa vaan.
Niin veli tappoi toisen
Hän kivel päähän löi
Taivas repes auki,
Raivoisasti salamoi
Varrel kuolleitten virran
Voiko väsyneet elää?
Otat kuninkaan tai varkaan
Saman vastauksen saat
Meistä kaikista tulee...
Maan multaa vaan
Tilaa:
Blogitekstit (Atom)