Текст песни Cesspool Called History - Lydia Lunch

Cesspool called history

I am an island in this cesspool called history
I inhabit the crumpled remains of a place that
Once was... suffocating in a solitude so fulfilling
That the merest rendevous becomes a cruxifiction

A solitude more chaotic than war
A stoic who remains undaunted among the ruins
Of a world shattered into atoms
Some of us are borne weary of being born
Given the gift of life to live obsessed w/ death

We bury on our souls the corpses we have not
Yet murdered... like an angel dafted on to the
Back of a leper... a criminal saint... the hero of
Yesterday becomes the tyrant of tomorrow
Unless he crucifies himself today...

The restlessness of sleepless nights dig trenches
Where the corpses of memory lay rotting...
A crater of lucidity whispers... time... time...
That slaughter house of the universe...
Where is it not in the nature of a man who
Cannot kill himself to seek revenge against
Whatever enjoys existing