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Тексты песен на английском, аккорды, табулатуры, гитара, Texts of songs, the song text, chords, notes
Тексты песен на английском, аккорды, табулатуры, гитара, Texts of songs, the song text, chords, notes » T » The Incredible String Band
Pictures In A Mirror - текст песни



Pictures In A Mirror


Deep in the hollow jail

Sleeps Lord Randall

The mixed voices speak of bread

And of sheets that were scarlet

and blue are at his head

His heart like a cat drowns in a well

He thinks of all the girls he will not love

He thinks not of the future or of the past

Blue lightning spikes the hills above the sea

Where Kasa's ship sets

sail for otherwhere





There stands the chief with

gold on his hair

Two fingers thick each link of coiled ore

Speaks to his white skinned

wife she answers not

He hurls his question angry to the gulls

His wife strikes her mouth

with a skull like sound

The bleeding image of her loss

revolves above her mind

With every line in its design

an accusing eye

That pierces Kasa's soul



The slaves row on beneath

the dragon flag

His heart recoils recall his red-haired son

Beneath the burning walls

that he razed down

His wife and he speak not

as wine is brought

A cup that seethes like the

black blood of wolves

His wife's dagger is hidden in her dress

He drinks joyless to a dark sleep



The gaoler bangs the iron door

Lord Randall wakes in pain

He shakes his shackles

in the beaten gloom

The blood of his wounds is hard as coal



The gaoler leads him out

upon the blinding bright stair

He feels uneven turf beneath his feet

The priest intones, the sword

falls on his neck

The pain is boiling cold



They lay him in the tomb

at the break of day

They close the earthen door

upon his clay

The birds are plucking worms

from the ground



Their feathers grey as mist

on a cloudy morn

Foresters burn branches

from the sleeping trees

The white sun turns to stone



His mother lies in her labor

Nine days long

She called on Saint Bridget in her time

I looked out on the room of mv birth

With hangings rich of

many strange designs



Nobles stand with their wine

cups in the room

Saluting me and she the King's queen

Already I am forgetting who I am

Already I've forgotten who I've been



My mother lifts me up

to her huge soft breast

Her nipple like a berry both

hard and brown

Her eyes look on me like waves of the sea

And with small lips

the yellow milk I draw.



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