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Artiste:
Momus
Titre:
Violets
Assurez-vous que les corrections sont tout à fait exactes
S'il vous plaît, les mettez en évidence en quelque sorte!
Vous pouvez, par exemple, écrire
INCORRECT: avant la mauvaise ligne
CORRECT: avant la correspondant ligne correcte
Autrement, nous ne pouvons les corriger pas! Merci pour votre aide.
The territorial drums a waltz on a loaded gun The viper flexes, coiling on the vine & the irises are sinking in the rain Idiots drown the sound of a distant train The blind man plays his instrument & sings In the Irish Sea ichthyosaurus swims The Reverend Ian Paisley grabs his god & shouts The Pope sits in the Vatican & doubts The generous American is loosening his belt Savoring his childhood in an after-dinner mint & the rosebuds are sinking in the rain Radios drown the sound of a distant train The blind man's bow leaves resin on the strings In the Irish Sea the rattlesnake swims On the feast day of St Patrick, like the poet Valery A soldier pours a glass of blood red wine into the sea The sun can never shine through the censorship of clouds In this city of open secrets & sudden shrouds While the astors are sinking in the rain Automatics drown the sound of a distant train The blind old man's accordion is torn In the Irish sea the adders swarm & in a Ballymena farmhouse a widow goes to bits & sometimes she remembers him & sometimes she just sits & as for the troubles, don't count us out Sometimes we're unbiased observers, sometimes louts While the tiger lilies crumple in the rain Television drowns the sound of a distant train The blind man pours the spit from an old trombone In the Irish Sea tapeworms twist & turn The moon is a sergeant major who rises & recruits In the terraces of Belfast, in the back streets of Beirut Sitting on a bed while I watch you from behind Skinny as a child, guilt-free, your face unlined While the violets are sinking in the rain Videos drown the sound of a distant train The blind old man has smashed his violin In the Irish Sea the vipers return Could've been your conscience But I guess that never works So treat me like an equal Till it hurts I violetti piangono per te I canali la Torre de Babel I violini piangono per che Io sto morendo in questo hotel