Instrumente
Ensembles
Genres
Komponiste
Presteerders

Lirieke: Sleeping At Last. Ghosts. Say.


Say what you really want to say
And the truest of forms will show
Finally you'll find your soul

They impose the endless fight
To always be perfect.
It seems they have been chosen
To be above the rest.
But the contradiction stands
Between these perfect lives
And the words that they've misread...
There was no reading.

Say all the things that you really want to say
The truest of forms will show,
Finally you'll find your soul.
Say all the things that you really want to say
The truest of forms will show
And finally you'll find your soul.

The landscapes of being
Are endlessly competing, back and forth
For an answer to existence
That we can never find,
In all of the places that we've searched out,
In all of the pulses that we've taken...
There was no reading.

Say all the things that you really want to say
Then you'll find, the truest of forms will show
And finally you'll find your soul.

Say all the things that you really want to say
Then you'll find, the truest of forms will show
And finally we'll find our souls.

Give us the answers
And the ability to hear

The landscapes of being
Are endlessly competing, back and forth
For an answer to existence
That we can understand.

Perhaps we're looking far too closely.

We can't see
All the evidence in its entirety...
The air in our lungs,
The complexity of our love.

Say all the things that you really want to say
Then you'll find, the truest of forms will show
And finally you'll find your soul.
Say all the things that you really want to say.

Say what you really want to say
And the truest of forms will show,
Finally you'll find your soul.
Onlangse versoeke