Texty písní Christian Death

Christian Death

Bad Year

At these moments I don't need the myths to recognise me

Then a veil of mist descends

And I become a happier man

While unexplored self doubts pretend for a moment, to be

What they fear they are -

The recurrent assertion of surrogate horror

Well, it's been a bad year

A man's future is mangled,

Depression knots tightly at the center of his being

A wave of sensuality fucks that smooth hole

Yes, this has been quite a bad year

A brittle twig at the end of the branch cracks

This has been a bad year, conducted quietly from both sides

I predict people will die and new ones will arise

They shall arise

-Acceptance as prophecy-

Only one moment conquers

And that only to smash my sheltered childhood

A world which I loved,

I loved