作词 : Current Ninety Three ... When serpents come They cover the Christ thorn Two heads And cock heads Serpents feet of emotion Lidded eyes and smudged reality Everything has two faces One is earthly without true form The other blackened and blackening And mother is in the fields Father is in the fields You know well its tortured form It's locked within a particular place It's locked within a particular form It's jailed by a falling light With angles shapes and size It's held by true what It's held in through place It's an aim that has no name Mother is in the fields Father is in the fields It's a form creating formless Formless creating form Oh four towers reaping backwards Do not spell the sound Do not move to the lies Speak the words and they create the universe And they destroy all universe Mother sleeps in the fields And father he reaps in the fields Heavy-lidded eyes do not mask his pain They shade us from the burning light Listen one face one form one truth I see it through the shading glass I see it fractured in the world This is not true It's appearance only Mother is in the fields Father is in the fields An eagle flies his bloody face Behind bloody claws behind bloody claws His pain is blackened rain His rain is Roman Sire the pain it is not finished I happens now Matchstick man in a matchstick world Nake the prime slice the sickle Nake the sickle slice the core Time stops when he was thirty-three And mother is in the fields And father is in the fields Time stops when i am thirty Time stops then and time stops there Then is now Oh why do we not say it Time stops time breaks time folds Time ceases And pestle grindes the mortar The mortar turns to dust The metal turns to rust Words they fail they fall apart The corn it dies and is reborn And mother stays in the fields And father is in the fields Blond hair moves in the blond corn Boyd wears black he talks of death But all his faces spell out light's on the roof He's kissing a rose A blooddrop comes from the heart of her life Something hangs above there in the skies Something hovers above his brown hair Life without us in the background of light And the birds don't sing When the curtain snaps Anita's in Ireland She's falling over rocks Stars of the sky stars of the pain And all stars meet in a falling star And some make money from weapons' blood And some make money from fear's blood And some make money from hunger's blood And some make money from politics' blood And some make money from religion's blood The world falls apart The world starts to cease And mother is in the fields And father has died in the fields
作词 : Current Ninety Three ... When serpents come They cover the Christ thorn Two heads And cock heads Serpents feet of emotion Lidded eyes and smudged reality Everything has two faces One is earthly without true form The other blackened and blackening And mother is in the fields Father is in the fields You know well its tortured form It's locked within a particular place It's locked within a particular form It's jailed by a falling light With angles shapes and size It's held by true what It's held in through place It's an aim that has no name Mother is in the fields Father is in the fields It's a form creating formless Formless creating form Oh four towers reaping backwards Do not spell the sound Do not move to the lies Speak the words and they create the universe And they destroy all universe Mother sleeps in the fields And father he reaps in the fields Heavy-lidded eyes do not mask his pain They shade us from the burning light Listen one face one form one truth I see it through the shading glass I see it fractured in the world This is not true It's appearance only Mother is in the fields Father is in the fields An eagle flies his bloody face Behind bloody claws behind bloody claws His pain is blackened rain His rain is Roman Sire the pain it is not finished I happens now Matchstick man in a matchstick world Nake the prime slice the sickle Nake the sickle slice the core Time stops when he was thirty-three And mother is in the fields And father is in the fields Time stops when i am thirty Time stops then and time stops there Then is now Oh why do we not say it Time stops time breaks time folds Time ceases And pestle grindes the mortar The mortar turns to dust The metal turns to rust Words they fail they fall apart The corn it dies and is reborn And mother stays in the fields And father is in the fields Blond hair moves in the blond corn Boyd wears black he talks of death But all his faces spell out light's on the roof He's kissing a rose A blooddrop comes from the heart of her life Something hangs above there in the skies Something hovers above his brown hair Life without us in the background of light And the birds don't sing When the curtain snaps Anita's in Ireland She's falling over rocks Stars of the sky stars of the pain And all stars meet in a falling star And some make money from weapons' blood And some make money from fear's blood And some make money from hunger's blood And some make money from politics' blood And some make money from religion's blood The world falls apart The world starts to cease And mother is in the fields And father has died in the fields
