Lingua   

Ghosts of Dachau

The Style Council
Lingua: Inglese


The Style Council


I close my eyes I reach out my hand and there you are
Beautiful in scabs caressing my scalp
Under the mounts of the gun towers
The crab lice bite the typhoid smells and I still here
Handsome in rags a trouserless man
Waiting helpless for dignity
Come to me, angel
Don't go to the showers, beg, steal or borrow
Now there's nothing left to take except eternity

I shout your name I kick out in dreams and here we are
The searchlight beams the siren squeals
And hopeless shuffle to certainty
And who will come to flower our graves with us still here
Covered with dust, remembered by few but forgotten by the majority
Stay with me, angel
Don't get lost in history
Don't let all we suffered
Lose its meaning in the dark that we call memory



Pagina principale CCG

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