How many prayers have been pattered out in vain, How many deeds have provoked a renaissance of futile smiles, And how many times have we been privileged spectators?
We'd rather be removed from this conspiracy We's rather close our eyes to the insanity
Lifting our hopes to withered plains. Dragging our thirst through desert storms Interlocked through limitless empires of camera eyes, Observing distress with stoic composure
Is this the act of resignation?
Admist the ruins the actors parade, Reciting phrases of 'Godot' and 'Lear' Yet something's different, the play seems so real How come we notice familiar eyes behind the masks?
Still we smile While hope and death carry on their dialogue Still we dance The sarabande of nihilism
Admist the ruins the jesters parade Reciting phrases of 'Godot' and 'Lear' Yet something's different, the play seems so real Cunnung tears hide a Torquemada smile
We congregate and sit hand in hand around the table of anachronism And we form the allianve with gestures of habit, Carrying on the same old way...Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
