paroles de chanson Tragedy's Birth - Primordial

The crippled oracle, he breathes his lungs like grit
His blackened hands, like maps of ungodly lands
His skin as leather, burnt by the sun
This world is not for him, it is not for you nor I
For you nor I

So when the Gods were young the burden was less
It was not grief and it was not fear
Who cast the shadow upon our age
And who has crippled the young and blinded their eyes
And blinded their eyes

He counts the hours, days and the awful years
To when the children stare into the sun
And when the mountains, they crumble to the sea
And our civilisations are turn to dust
They are turned to dust
And they are turned to dust
Turned to dust

Come on

So slumber watcher, untill the spheres
Have turned ten and twenty thousand years
The crippled oracle, he breathes, his lungs like grit
This world is not for him, it is is not for you nor I...
For you nor I