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Home >> HURT >> Still
Album: The Re-Consumation (2008)

Still

Eine Musik so schín und blau wie ihre Augen
Voller Schmerz in seinem Glauben
Kam von diesem kleinen Zimmer
Sein Ein und Alles, seine Flucht vor der Realitñt

Er spielte und hírte zu
Und Verstand kam besser von seiner Hand
Seine Gefühle in drei Minuten
Gab ihr Einsicht in sein Leben

In seinem Leben brauchte er nur zwei Sachen
Sie und sein Gitarre
Aber dazu war er nicht stark genug um zu tragen
Ein Fluss voller Freuden und Klagen
Dann verlass Sie das Zimmer des Lebens und er war allein

Er rufte nach ihr
Seine Stimme schallte in dem leeren Zimmer
Und er war allein
Nur er und seine Gitarre ohne Saiten

Und die Musik war still…

Seine Gedanken waren so froh wenn er spielte
So schín und bunt
Nichts in der Welt konnte ihn erregen
Er war perfekt wie die anderen

Die Musik war ein Ausweg, eine Medizin für seine Krankheit
Er hatte alles unter Kontrolle, alles war in Ordnung
Tag ein, tag aus, dankte er Gott für seine Hñnde
Die Musik war sein Verstand

Er spielte lauter und lauter
Aber Zeit war nicht auf seiner Seite
Kaum konnte er seine Finger merken, aber er konnte sie fühlen
Es wurde sehr leise

Und die Musik war still…

[Translation:]

A music as beautiful and blue as her eyes
Full of pain in his beliefs
Came from this small room
That meant the world to him, being his escape from reality

He played and listened
His mind spoke better through his hands
His feelings in three minutes
Gave her insight to his life

In his life he needed two things only
Her and his guitar
But that he wasn't strong enough to carry
A river of joy and grief
Then she left the room of life and he was alone

He cried for her
His voice echoed in that empty room
And he was alone
Just him and his guitar without strings

And the music was silent...

His thoughts were so bright when he played
So pretty and colorful
Nothing in the world could provoke him
He was perfect as anyone else

Music was his resort, a medicine for his disease
He had everything under control, everything was fine
Day in, day out he thanked God for his hands
Music was his sanity

He played louder and louder
But time wasn't on his side
He could hardly sense his fingers, but he could feel them
It got very quiet

And the music was silent...


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