Flummiga låttexter

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  • #30354
    DarkSoul
    Deltagare

    Ja tanken med den här tråden var altså att ni skulle posta flummiga lyrics.
    Här kommer mitt bidrag:

    Monstrosity – The Angels Venom

    I quest to free my mind.
    No longer captive
    This freedom my desire.
    My quest never ending
    With flames I light my path.
    Yet death impending,
    Shadows me on my way.
    So the quest consumes me
    As poison in my blood.
    Pulling my body downward
    Soon sleeping death shall come.
    And how the light it tempts me,
    I hear the trumpets call.
    Tasting the lips of angels,
    My soul is ripped apart.
    Lost, awake, yet dreaming.
    Asleep, yet conscious still,
    My soul extracted.
    I stumble through the dark.
    I have no vision,
    Yet I see everything.
    The essence coursing
    Ascension killing me.
    Burn, the angels venom raging through my veins.
    Violent hallucination venom draining me.
    The trumpets ringing the light begins to fade
    Into a new existence I am thrown again.
    Burning in distress and my body reeling,
    Traumatic visions form
    My mind erases
    Memories I’ll never know.
    Listen to the screams of the souls in mourning
    Dissolving entity.
    Shown the ways of horror
    Writhing ecstasy.
    Burn the angels venom raging through my veins.
    Violent hallucination, venom draining me.
    The trumpets ringing the light begins to fade,
    Into a new existence I am thrown again.
    Hear the voices of the dying crying out to me.
    I hear the message clearly, voice of infinity
    Their words caress me and tell me of my end.
    Into the door of passage will I know flesh again?
    So the quest consumes me as poison in my blood,
    Pulling my body downward, sleeping death will come.
    Now the light it tempts me, I hear the trumpets call;
    Tasting the lips of angels my soul is ripped apart.

    Hoppas inte ni tror jag är Antikrist nu bara 😉

    #354823
    reaper
    Deltagare

    Trevlig tråd. Funderade länge på vad jag skulle välja men blev till slut en klassiker 😉

    Jefferson Airplane – White Rabbit

    One pill makes you larger
    And one pill makes you small,
    And the ones that mother gives you
    Don’t do anything at all.
    Go ask Alice
    When she’s ten feet tall.
    And if you go chasing rabbits
    And you know you’re going to fall,
    Tell ’em a hookah smoking caterpillar
    Has given you the call.
    Call Alice
    When she was just small.
    When the men on the chessboard
    Get up and tell you where to go
    And you’ve just had some kind of mushroom
    And your mind is moving low.
    Go ask Alice
    I think she’ll know.
    When logic and proportion
    Have fallen sloppy dead,
    And the White Knight is talking backwards
    And the Red Queen’s ”off with her head!”
    Remember what the dormouse said:
    ”Feed your head. Feed your head. Feed your head”

    #354824
    reaper
    Deltagare

    Tool – Stinkfist Lyrics

    Something has to change.
    Un-deniable dilemma.
    Boredom’s not a burden
    Anyone should bear.

    Constant over stimu-lation numbs me
    but I would not want you
    any other way.

    It’s not enough.
    I need more.
    Nothing seems to satisfy.

    I don’t want it.
    I just need it.
    To breathe, to feel, to know I’m alive.

    Finger deep within the borderline.
    Show me that you love me and that we belong together.
    Relax, turn around and take my hand.

    I can help you change
    Tired moments into pleasure.
    Say the word and we’ll be
    Well upon our way.

    Blend and balance
    Pain and comfort
    Deep within you
    Till you will not want me any other way.

    It’s not enough.
    I need more.
    Nothing seems to satisfy.
    I don’t want it.
    I just need it.
    To breathe, to feel, to know I’m alive.

    Knuckle deep inside the borderline.
    This may hurt a little but it’s something you’ll get used to.
    Relax. Slip away.

    Something kinda sad about
    the way that things have come to be.
    Desensitized to everything.
    What became of subtlety?

    How can this mean anything to me
    If I really don’t feel anything at all?

    I’ll keep digging till
    I feel something.

    Elbow deep inside the borderline.
    Show me that you love me and that we belong together.
    Shoulder deep within the borderline.
    Relax. Turn around and take my hand.

    Smaka på den här när ni är lite böjda på grönt.
    Vad en ”stinkfist” är kan ni nog lista ut själva…

    #354825
    the_mighty
    Deltagare

    adastraperaspera:

    Vad en ”stinkfist” är kan ni nog lista ut själva…

    Det låter som vad vi i mina trakter kallar en bävernäve 8)

    #354826
    reaper
    Deltagare

    ja, om bävern använder lucka 2 för ingång;)

    #354827
    Nesta
    Deltagare

    Eftersom att jag är ett stort Zappafreak

    I`m the slime

    I am gross and perverted
    I’m obsessed ’n deranged
    I have existed for years
    But very little had changed
    I am the tool of the Government
    And industry too
    For I am destined to rule
    And regulate you

    I may be vile and pernicious
    But you can’t look away
    I make you think I’m delicious
    With the stuff that I say
    I am the best you can get
    Have you guessed me yet?
    I am the slime oozin’ out
    From your TV set

    You will obey me while I lead you
    And eat the garbage that I feed you
    Until the day that we don’t need you
    Don’t got for help…no one will heed you
    Your mind is totally controlled
    It has been stuffed into my mold
    And you will do as you are told
    Until the rights to you are sold

    That’s right, folks..
    Don’t touch that dial

    Well, I am the slime from your video
    Oozin’ along on your livin’room floor

    I am the slime from your video
    Can’t stop the slime, people, lookit me go

    :hippie:

    #354828
    the_mighty
    Deltagare

    En lovley låt av Kris Kristoffersson: Pilgrim

    See him wasted on the sidewalk in his jacket and his jeans,
    Wearin’ yesterday’s misfortunes like a smile
    Once he had a future full of money, love, and dreams,
    Which he spent like they was goin’ outa style
    And he keeps right on a’changin’ for the better or the worse,
    Searchin’ for a shrine he’s never found
    Never knowin’ if believin’ is a blessin’ or a curse,
    Or if the goin’ up was worth the comin’ down

    He’s a poet, he’s a picker
    He’s a prophet, he’s a pusher
    He’s a pilgrim and a preacher, and a problem when he’s stoned
    He’s a walkin’ contradiction, partly truth and partly fiction,
    Takin’ ev’ry wrong direction on his lonely way back home.

    He has tasted good and evil in your bedrooms and your bars,
    And he’s traded in tomorrow for today
    Runnin’ from his devils, Lord, and reachin’ for the stars,
    And losin’ all he’s loved along the way
    But if this world keeps right on turnin’ for the better or the worse,
    And all he ever gets is older and around
    From the rockin’ of the cradle to the rollin’ of the hearse,
    The goin’ up was worth the comin’ down

    He’s a poet, he’s a picker
    He’s a prophet, he’s a pusher
    He’s a pilgrim and a preacher, and a problem when he’s stoned
    He’s a walkin’ contradiction, partly truth and partly fiction,
    Takin’ ev’ry wrong direction on his lonely way back home.
    There’s a lotta wrong directions on that lonely way back home

    #354829
    reaper
    Deltagare

    Electric Wizard – Dopethrone

    Dope priest prophecy
    Doomantra from beneath the sea
    Green throne, raised to the black sun
    Doom child, wake to planet song

    Rise, black amps tear the sky
    Feedback will free your mind and set you free
    Rise, black amps tear the sky
    Riff hewn altar wreathed in smoke and weed

    Dopethrone, in this land of sorcery
    Dopethrone, vision through T.H.C.
    Dopethrone, feedback will free
    Dopethrone, three wizards crowned with weed, yeah

    Black monolith charged with unlight
    Sacrifice to forever midnight
    Towers, titan sonic wave
    Sorcery, necromantic slaves

    Rise, black amps tear the sky
    Feedback will free your mind and set you free
    Rise, black amps tear the sky
    Riff hewn altar wreathed in smoke and weed, yeah

    Dopethrone, in this land of sorcery
    Dopethrone, vision through T.H.C., yeah
    Dopethrone, feedback will free, yeah
    Dopethrone, three wizards crowned with weed, yeah

    In this land of sorcery
    Vision through T.H.C.
    Holy feedback, it will free
    Three wizards crowned with weed

    Rise
    Rise
    Rise
    Rise
    Rise
    Rise
    Rise
    Rise

    Smoke

    Sleep – Dopesmoker (bara första versen men men…)

    Drop out of life with bong in hand

    Follow the smoke to-uh the riff-filled land

    Drop…out of life with bong in hand

    Follow the smoke to-uh the riff-filled land

    och till sist en klassiker

    Black Sabbath – Planet Caravan

    We sail through endless skies
    Stars shine like eyes
    The black night sighs
    The moon in silver trees
    Falls down in tears
    Light of the night
    The earth, a purple blaze
    Of sapphire haze
    In orbit always

    While down below the trees
    Bathed in cool breeze
    Silver starlight breaks down the night
    And so we pass on by the crimson eye
    Of great God mars
    As we travel the universe

    #354830
    reaper
    Deltagare

    Här har ni en rejäl låttext, en av mina favoriter. Kanske bäst att lystna på den första raden.

    Really don’t mind if you sit this one out.

    My words but a whisper — your deafness a SHOUT.
    I may make you feel but I can’t make you think.
    Your sperm’s in the gutter — your love’s in the sink.
    So you ride yourselves over the fields and
    you make all your animal deals and
    your wise men don’t know how it feels to be thick as a brick.
    And the sand-castle virtues are all swept away in
    the tidal destruction
    the moral melee.
    The elastic retreat rings the close of play as the last wave uncovers
    the newfangled way.
    But your new shoes are worn at the heels and
    your suntan does rapidly peel and
    your wise men don’t know how it feels to be thick as a brick.

    And the love that I feel is so far away:
    I’m a bad dream that I just had today — and you
    shake your head and
    say it’s a shame.

    Spin me back down the years and the days of my youth.
    Draw the lace and black curtains and shut out the whole truth.
    Spin me down the long ages: let them sing the song.

    See there! A son is born — and we pronounce him fit to fight.
    There are black-heads on his shoulders, and he pees himself in the night.
    We’ll
    make a man of him
    put him to trade
    teach him
    to play Monopoly and
    to sing in the rain.

    The Poet and the painter casting shadows on the water —
    as the sun plays on the infantry returning from the sea.
    The do-er and the thinker: no allowance for the other —
    as the failing light illuminates the mercenary’s creed.
    The home fire burning: the kettle almost boiling —
    but the master of the house is far away.
    The horses stamping — their warm breath clouding
    in the sharp and frosty morning of the day.
    And the poet lifts his pen while the soldier sheaths his sword.

    And the youngest of the family is moving with authority.
    Building castles by the sea, he dares the tardy tide to wash them all aside.

    The cattle quietly grazing at the grass down by the river
    where the swelling mountain water moves onward to the sea:
    the builder of the castles renews the age-old purpose
    and contemplates the milking girl whose offer is his need.
    The young men of the household have
    all gone into service and
    are not to be expected for a year.
    The innocent young master — thoughts moving ever faster —
    has formed the plan to change the man he seems.
    And the poet sheaths his pen while the soldier lifts his sword.

    And the oldest of the family is moving with authority.
    Coming from across the sea, he challenges the son who puts him to the run.

    What do you do when
    the old man’s gone — do you want to be him? And
    your real self sings the song.
    Do you want to free him?
    No one to help you get up steam —
    and the whirlpool turns you `way off-beam.

    LATER.
    I’ve come down from the upper class to mend your rotten ways.
    My father was a man-of-power whom everyone obeyed.
    So come on all you criminals!
    I’ve got to put you straight just like I did with my old man —
    twenty years too late.
    Your bread and water’s going cold.
    Your hair is too short and neat.
    I’ll judge you all and make damn sure that no-one judges me.

    You curl your toes in fun as you smile at everyone — you meet the stares.
    You’re unaware that your doings aren’t done.
    And you laugh most ruthlessly as you tell us what not to be.
    But how are we supposed to see where we should run?
    I see you shuffle in the courtroom with
    your rings upon your fingers and
    your downy little sidies and
    your silver-buckle shoes.
    Playing at the hard case, you follow the example of the comic-paper idol
    who lets you bend the rules.

    So!
    Come on ye childhood heroes!
    Won’t you rise up from the pages of your comic-books
    your super crooks
    and show us all the way.
    Well! Make your will and testament. Won’t you?
    Join your local government.
    We’ll have Superman for president
    let Robin save the day.

    You put your bet on number one and it comes up every time.
    The other kids have all backed down and they put you first in line.
    And so you finally ask yourself just how big you are —
    and take your place in a wiser world of bigger motor cars.
    And you wonder who to call on.

    So! Where the hell was Biggles when you needed him last Saturday?
    And where were all the sportsmen who always pulled you though?
    They’re all resting down in Cornwall —
    writing up their memoirs for a paper-back edition
    of the Boy Scout Manual.

    #354831
    reaper
    Deltagare

    Och det var bara första halvan

    #354832
    DarkSoul
    Deltagare

    Schysta texter ni postat.

    Tiamat – Mouny Marilyn

    The throne my love that opens now
    In cattle blood of aery brow
    Con that life’s a dream not to affy
    As embodied matter love will die
    You twinkle still in argentine
    When I palmy doubt the rapid din
    To force the mare, the pain I hide
    As you’re no longer by my side
    Mazed I helmed this crater deem
    Stranger than a stranger seems
    Wished to shroud the sortance leer
    And barely wink the eyes of fear
    Splay the moon that foolish be
    And let the sunshine raving me
    Beyond the love I do behold
    A ken I saw, a fane of gold
    I’d seize in pounds our insane blend
    And phantom laid a smile I send
    Eke an ounce of purple fire and fairy eyes no longer twire
    Would fain to stalk the colour fields
    But tickle I shall stark lonely yield
    Merely in drowning water clay
    As anguish wears but shades of grey
    To retain the chains of elder squire
    I’d prune the funeral skies denier
    Once in awhile he still appeals
    To remind you all it’s still for real
    Breathing smoke and fire
    But the face of evil that haunted us
    Was never ever present thus
    The cupid rainbow ties an orb
    In which every demon shall absorb
    Do you think I care?
    Do you really think I care?
    _____________________________________________________________

    Förövrigt kan jag rekomendera Tiamat – A Deeper Kind Of Slumber mycket soft skiva.
    Kom igen och posta nu vill läsa mer flummiga texter.

    #354833
    DarkSoul
    Deltagare

    @Quadrophenia wrote:

    Och det var bara första halvan

    Nice var e resten då?

    #354834
    reaper
    Deltagare

    Här. Finns det några fler Jethro Tull fans här? Hade varit ganska groovy.

    Och textehelvetet är ju sant också. Våra visa män vet inte hur det känns att vara seg som en deg.

    LATER.
    See there! A man born — and we pronounce him fit for peace.
    There’s a load lifted from his shoulders with the discovery of his disease.
    We’ll
    take the child from him
    put it to the test
    teach it
    to be a wise man
    how to fool the rest.

    QUOTE
    We will be geared to the average rather than the exceptional
    God is an overwhelming responsibility
    we walked through the maternity ward and saw 218 babies wearing nylons
    cats are on the upgrade
    upgrade? Hipgrave. Oh, Mac.

    LATER
    In the clear white circles of morning wonder,
    I take my place with the lord of the hills.
    And the blue-eyed soldiers stand slightly discoloured (in neat little rows)
    sporting canvas frills.
    With their jock-straps pinching, they slouch to attention,
    while queueing for sarnies at the office canteen.
    Saying — how’s your granny and
    good old Ernie: he coughed up a tenner on a premium bond win.

    The legends (worded in the ancient tribal hymn) lie cradled
    in the seagull’s call.
    And all the promises they made are ground beneath the sadist’s fall.
    The poet and the wise man stand behind the gun,
    and signal for the crack of dawn.
    Light the sun.

    Do you believe in the day? Do you?
    Believe in the day! The Dawn Creation of the Kings has begun.
    Soft Venus (lonely maiden) brings the ageless one.
    Do you believe in the day?
    The fading hero has returned to the night — and fully pregnant with the day,
    wise men endorse the poet’s sight.
    Do you believe in the day? Do you? Believe in the day!

    Let me tell you the tales of your life of
    your love and the cut of the knife
    the tireless oppression
    the wisdom instilled
    the desire to kill or be killed.
    Let me sing of the losers who lie in the street as the last bus goes by.
    The pavements ar empty: the gutters run red — while the fool
    toasts his god in the sky.

    So come all ye young men who are building castles!
    Kindly state the time of the year and join your voices in a hellish chorus.
    Mark the precise nature of your fear.
    Let me help you pick up your dead as the sins of the father are fed
    with
    the blood of the fools and
    the thoughts of the wise and
    from the pan under your bed.
    Let me make you a present of song as
    the wise man breaks wind and is gone while
    the fool with the hour-glass is cooking his goose and
    the nursery rhyme winds along.

    So! Come all ye young men who are building castles!
    Kindly state the time of the year and join your voices in a hellish chorus.
    Mark the precise nature of your fear.
    See! The summer lightning casts its bolts upon you
    and the hour of judgement draweth near.
    Would you be
    the fool stood in his suit of armour or
    the wiser man who rushes clear.
    So! Come on ye childhood heroes!
    Won’t your rise up from the pages of your comic-books
    your super-crooks and
    show us all the way.
    Well! Make your will and testament.
    Won’t you? Join your local government.
    We’ll have Superman for president
    let Robin save the day.
    So! Where the hell was Biggles when you needed him last Saturday?
    And where were all the sportsmen who always pulled you through?
    They’re all resting down in Cornwall — writing up their memoirs
    for a paper-back edition of the Boy Scout Manual.

    OF COURSE
    So you ride yourselves over the fields and
    you make all your animal deals and
    your wise men don’t know how it feels to be thick as a brick.

    #354835
    reaper
    Deltagare

    Åh den här är underbar. Bästa artisten som finns också!

    The King of Carrot Flowers

    Part One
    When you were young
    You were the king of carrot flowers
    And how you built a tower tumbling through the trees
    In holy rattlesnakes that fell all around your feet

    And your mom would stick a fork right into daddy’s shoulder
    And your dad would throw the garbage all across the floor
    As we would lay and learn what each other’s bodies were for

    And this is the room
    One afternoon I knew I could love you
    And from above you how I sank into your soul
    Into that secret place where no one dares to go

    And your mom would sink until she was no longer speaking
    And dad would dream of all the different ways to die
    Each one a little more than he could dare to try

    #354836
    Agatonsax
    Deltagare

    Tyvärr så kan jag inte hitta texten till en extremt bra låt med Acid King låten heter iallafall Carve The 5.

    Alla som har, eller kan få tillgång till denna låt bör genast lyssna på texten.

    //Agatonsax

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