Текст и перевод песни Magnus Mefisto - Charles

Charles

Para contar esta historia volvamos a los sesenta,
él tenía problemas pero no se daba cuenta.
La droga lo inspiraba y circulaba por sus venas,
Escuchaba Los Beatles para así ahogar sus penas.
Él pensaba" tocar es todo lo que necesito",
Mientras perdía su tiempo entre miles de delitos.
Entre versos entendía que tenía una misión,
Y que él iba a cumplirla al salir de esta prisión.
Formaba sus conceptos al leer sobre budismo,
Empezaba a encontrarse y a adorarse a si mismo.
Por las noches seguidores lo esperaban en vigilia,
Eran sus fieles, sus amantes, todos eran "La Familia".
Aguardaban escuchar lo que Charles siempre decía,
Helter Skelter y la guerra, esa era su profecía.
Todos iban a matarse y destruirse entre las razas,
Pero ellos se salvarían y el guiaría a las masas.

People say I′m not good
But they never, never do they say.
People say you're not good,
′Cause Charles you don't do.

En una noche de agosto del año sesenta y nueve,
Mandó a cuatro de sus fieles y les dijo "Todos Mueren".
Irrumpieron con cuchillos dentro de aquella mansión,
Todo fue sangre y demencia no hubo tiempo a la reacción.
Sharon Tate fue la elegida para el terrible ritual,
Polanski estaba de gira, solo pensaba en filmar.
La prensa amarillista hizo entrar todos en pánico,
La actriz estaba muerta y fue por un acto satánico.
A los medios no temieron, ellos no se detuvieron,
Los LaBianca al día siguiente fueron los dos que murieron.
Apuñalados sin piedad, desangrados hasta morir,
Para luego con su sangre cerdo ponerse a escribir.
Ellos obedecían y el tan solo ordenaba,
Era el cerebro de la secta, sus manos nunca se manchaban.
Todo estaba marchando según el lo había planeado,
Pero alguien abrió la boca y las cosas se complicaron.
People say I'm not good
But they never, never do they say.
People say you′re not good,
′Cause Charles you don't do.

Todos fueron juzgados, se les acabó la suerte,
El jurado discutió y ordenó condena a muerte.
Pero la pena se apelo y el castigo fue cambiado,
Ordenaron que quedara para siempre y encerrado.
Cuarenta años después aún le teme la sociedad,
Lo prefieren olvidado y contenida su maldad.
Es que no pueden soportar, ellos eligen no escuchar,
él solo dice incoherencias que saben hipnotizar.
¿Qué es lo que pasaría si estuviera en libertad?,
¿Las cosas cambiarían, o sería todo igual.?
Es digno de admirar un líder que supo entender,
E influenciar a muchos jóvenes sin nada que perder.
Un artista rechazado que les prometió esperanza,
Solo si se redimían y cumplían su venganza.
Rompiendo el estatuto que te quieren enseñar,
Los que temen que La Familia hoy los venga a visitar.

People say I′m not good
But they never, never do they say.
People say you're not good,
′Cause Charles you don't do.

Charles

Let's rewind to the sixties to tell this tale,
He had troubles but he was oblivious to the veil.
Drugs were his muse, coursing through his very veins,
Listening to The Beatles to drown out his pains.
“Music is all I need,” he thought, or so he said,
As he wasted his time committing misdemeanors instead.
Through the verses, he realized he had a mission,
And he'd fulfill it once he was out of that prison.
He formed his concepts from reading about Buddhism,
He was beginning to find himself and egotism.
At night, followers waited for him in vigil,
They were his devotees, his lovers, his “Family.”
They were eager to hear what Charles always had to say,
Helter Skelter and war, that was his prophecy.
They would all kill and destroy themselves through the races,
But they would be saved, and he would lead the masses.

People say I′m not good
But they never, never do they say.
People say you're not good,
′Cause Charles you don't do.

On an August night in the year nineteen sixty-nine,
He sent four of his devotees out, said, “Everybody dies.”
They broke into a mansion with knives, all hell broke loose,
It was blood and madness, no time to diffuse.
Sharon Tate was the chosen one for the horrific ritual,
Polanski was on tour, thinking only of making a reel.
The tabloids caused panic, they had everyone in a craze,
The actress was dead, it was a satanic craze.
The media wasn't scared, they didn't hold back,
The LaBiancas were the next to die in their own home, attacked.
Stabbed without mercy, bled to death on the floor,
Then they used their blood to write “pig” on the door.
They obeyed, and he commanded, their brains under his spell,
He was the mastermind of the cult, his hands were kept well.
Everything was going according to his plan,
But someone opened their mouth, and suddenly their luck ran.
People say I'm not good
But they never, never do they say.
People say you′re not good,
′Cause Charles you don't do.

They were all put on trial, their luck had run out,
The jury deliberated and ordered the death route.
But the sentence was appealed, and the punishment was changed,
They ordered he be locked away, imprisoned and deranged.
Forty years on, he still haunts society,
They prefer to forget him, keep his evil on the down low.
They can't stand to listen, they choose not to hear,
He only speaks incoherencies that they know can ensnare.
What would happen if he were set free?
Would things change, or would they all stay the same?
He's a sight to behold, a leader who understood,
Influencing the youth who had nothing else good.
A rejected artist who promised them hope,
If they would just repent and carry out his dope.
Breaking the mold they tried to make you fit,
The ones who fear “The Family” will come visit them yet.

People say I′m not good
But they never, never do they say.
People say you're not good,
′Cause Charles you don't do.