1. |
Lucid Dream
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2. |
The Celebration Of Despair And Woe
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3. |
Fighting With The Rain
05:09
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A nocturnal walk in
The streets or the park with
Cast down eyes and hope inside.
Gloomy rag dolls
Soaked to the bones.
Poor kids of darkness
Drowned in sadness.
It's like fighting with the rain,
It's like fighting with the rain.
Chasing a rainbow day after day
Is like fighting with the rain,
It's like fighting with the rain.
Passing dim streetlights,
Doing routine laps,
They're already tired, but still inspired.
How long can they go feeling alone?
Nobody cares and nobody knows.
Such thoughts are like little parasites.
They devour our dreams – low self-esteem.
If only they could
Hide under a roof...
Poor kids of darkness
Drowned in sadness.
It's like fighting with the rain,
It's like fighting with the rain.
Chasing a rainbow day after day
Is like fighting with the rain,
It's like fighting with the rain.
Wandering aimlessly,
Looking for something you've never ever seen,
Chasing a rainbow day after day
Is like fighting with the rain,
It's like fighting with the rain.
One day there will be merry laughs and sunny smiles,
But now there is only anxiety in tired eyes.
And maybe happiness will be finally found
By those who thought they had drowned.
Someone may say it's just a bad dream.
It's hard to believe, 'cause it feels so real.
And if it's true, then how to break free?
Am I really asleep?
Such a crazy thought,
This has got to be a joke!
I am stuck in my own world,
Punching these cold raindrops.
Wandering aimlessly,
Looking for something you've never ever seen,
Something you've never ever seen,
Chasing a rainbow day after day
Is like fighting with the rain,
It's like fighting with the rain.
But why do we fight it
If we can enjoy it
Dancing in its drops?
It may be hard, but let's admit,
It's just more interesting to be
In the inky darkness.
And drown, and drown there.
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4. |
Winter Wedding Ceremony
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5. |
The Mistress Of Dark Art
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6. |
Nightmare Lullaby
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7. |
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Ashen clouds slowly sail on the frowning sky.
The baleful Luna shines gently from behind.
Thousands of poignant tears are shed down below.
A filthy, dry odor succumbed to petrichor.
An ominous passage led to the sullen night paysage,
Which seemed hitherto an elusive far mirage.
In a soft embrace of the wretched enchantress,
Even total darkness will lose a game of chess.
With heavy steps, but a tranquil breath he treads to the broad ledge.
Twisted shapes of the gray landscape are seen from the house edge.
A boring life, internal strifes – melancholia,
Wind was blowing mildly, it brought light euphoria.
A seducing gaze from obscurity.
He looked loftily, brusquely at the gaunt face
As if forgetting about her mournful grace,
Her grave malady and naive vanity,
This insomnious autumnal night.
This insomnious autumnal night
In a murky, burial shroud, death cries.
Another poor soul tries to finish the game,
Unfortunately, beforehand.
On drear eyes of emerald color
Was nothing, but bitter, mute sorrow.
A haggard body rests on the ground
Among vermilion gouts.
She has to stay unbiased,
Thus, guarding a painful suspense.
A mien of the Woeful Queen
Showed genuine sadness.
She awkwardly plays at give-away,
Truly enjoying convulsions of prey.
An opponent always clings to life, but this time
There is no reason to fight,
As this insomnious autumnal night
In a murky, burial shroud, death cries.
Another poor soul tries to finish the game,
Unfortunately, beforehand.
On drear eyes of emerald color
Was nothing, but bitter, mute sorrow.
The haggard body rests on the ground
Among vermilion gouts.
He deluded her vilely, broke her shy heart,
Trampled it arrogantly, tore it apart.
By invisible waves of vespertine air
She was thrown in the abyss of eternal despair.
Det fanns en man, som försökte
Skjuta upp det oundvikliga,
Men lömska döden, som gömdes i mörkret,
Visste i förväg att han skulle förlora.
Hon tiger med ett leende,
När frågar man: "Vad händer sen?"
Han flög till ljuset som en fjäril,
Men det största skämtet var att det fanns ingenting.
She awkwardly plays at give-away,
Truly enjoying convulsions of prey.
An opponent always clings to life, but this time
There is no reason to fight,
As this insomnious autumnal night
In a murky, burial shroud, death cries.
Another poor soul just finished the game,
Unfortunately, beforehand.
Golden foliage flies in the chill October wind
Beneath argent, dim moonbeams.
The last words he said before the tragical end,
"We are... We are... We are already dead..."
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8. |
Sleep Paralysis
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Tragedy In Hope Saint Petersburg, Russia
If the culture of new sincerity sounded like black metal, it would sound like Tragedy In Hope.
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