Twelfth Night The Collector tekst piosenki i tłumaczenie. Posłuchaj MP3 i obejrzyj teledysk z Youtube oraz sprawdź chwyty.

Tekst piosenki

Kingdom come, come kingdom go

That you may carve upon my grave stone

When confined in a six walled box

I will no longer hear the clocks

Indifferently ticking in cold deserted mansion halls


Kingdom come, come kingdom go

Mementos relics crated cargo

A million things all left behind

Relationships with humankind

Conducted as if I was buying slaves at auction

Holding court at gross parties

Where punch drunk sycophants

Came slobbering, to suck my cocktails

I escaped up the stairs to my collection


In my collection, facets of ego

Gradually eclipsing mass

Between the nursery and now

Struggling for meaning

Walking earth insensible

Flowerings of childhood turned to stringy vegetable


Titians, tits and grand Goyas

Glower through the high stone traceries

Oily smears bequeathed by thirsty souls

Studied throughout my long daze

Scumbled paint in priceless fossils

Many a sad sullen pieta

Christ eternal held away from me

Behind a brown and ancient glaze


Troubled at night by…

Flashbacks…

Flashbacks! Flashbacks! Flashbacks! Flashbacks


Whaaa… Mummy

I don’t want to train on my potty and I don’t want to share my toys with the other children

‘cos they’re so nasty…


… Child that I was then when was I last young?

When did comic wood bricks become trading in con-tricks?

When did innocence shudder and die?

Adolescent I planned to take total command

Draped vision’s guilt edge on the bars of my play-pen

Hoped to arrest the swift passage of time

As though by some chance I could recreate Eden…

Apple pie? Lovely!


So hope became a statue, my words became a gun

In the hit parade of self interest, I remained at number one

I was Mozart’s old piano, with a special gold inlay

I was always a lover of music, but I never did learn to play

Thought I’d be saved by my collection, to begin with

Thought I’d be saved by my collection

Would you believe it? But then


Nanny? Nanny Conscience?

Is that you standing at the end of my bed, Nanny?

My, you’ve been in cold storage for a long time, my dear

You’re looking out of condition, you could do with some exercise

I mean look at your skin, my god, the wrinkles!

Nanny! Nan-nanny! Had her made into a table lamp for me because

Because I need some light to shine but artificially

From her prim portals…

Nanny! Nan-nanny! Don’t you think you’d better start being nice to me, Nanny?

I mean one day soon I’m going to grow up big and strong

And an old bag like you won’t get a job in my kingdom

Nobody’s going to make me wash behind my ears, or eat my greens

Or share my toys with the other children…


I drank myself as dry as a desert

Still in the end there was nothing left to call my own

The freedom from pain with which I toyed

Became a doorway to a void

The only values left were relative to power


The trouble with life in ivory towers

The seconds stretch until they wear the skins of hours

Faithless mates who come and go

They run away like melted snow

A temple to ego never constitutes a home


And though it seems sad, this jangling junk we are amassed

A passing pageant passing fast, there must be something

Something that can

Last more than the sense of life as just a short and pointless overture to death

Fear debilitating fear and death run round in circles

Turn!


Kingdom come, come kingdom go

Collecting clouds before the Son light

On pain of death our presents pass

Secreting habit over insight

Human soul is fertilised

Human span its wombing season

Ward of conscience fragile child

Aborted by unfettered reason

Candle, both ends burning


Collecting trash, collecting gold

Vampiric ego drains and clutches

When cross examined by the truth

It carves the cross up into crutches

Sharpened at both ends, some friend…

Freedom’s king is donkey borne

A cross, the bleeding palms on main-street

Collecting nothing but the scorn

Of those who cannot bear their eyes to meet

Except in artificial light

Who needs to star in such a cast?

I leave collecting to the past


To one last party, I asked them all and one

And when it was over I found that all but one had gone

Did Jesus have a grave stone upon which to carve his name?

We all are what we live, a truth that will never change

You cannot collect worthwhile living

For it is a crop that grows, from a seed of giving


Diaries, drugs, a glittering crystal ball

Cathedrals, palaces, sweet sugar you can keep them all;

Heaven, heaven is not for sale

Heaven is not for sale 

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