| Versione inglese / English Version
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TO DIE FOR YOUR IDEAS | DIE FOR IDEAS |
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To die for your ideas, an excellent idea | Die for ideas, that's a great idea. |
One time I almost died for lack of having it | Me, I nearly died because I didn't have any. |
When all the teeming hordes who had it before me | Because those who had the ideals, an overwhelming crowd, |
Ran screaming to my door in a murderous fit | Fell on me yelling "Slaughter". |
My muse eventually caved in to their request | They were able to convince me, and my cheeky Muse |
Lamenting her mistakes, she rallied for their cause | Admitted she was wrong, and rallied to their cause. |
With just a whisper of regret giving her pause | Just maintaining a tiny suspicion of doubt. |
Let’s die for our ideas, but make it a slow death | Die for ideas, OK, but just make it a slow death, |
OK, make it a slow, slow death | OK, a slow death. |
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Seeing as we are free to linger in this life | Judging that there's no danger in staying at home, |
Let’s take our own sweet time reaching the afterglow | Let's meander on the road to the other world. |
For, if we hurry up, we might actually die | Because if you force the pace, you end up dying |
For an idea that’s out of fashion tomorrow | For ideals which are out of date tomorrow. |
Yet, if there’s one thing sure to make you feel depressed | Now if there's one thing that's really bitter and upsetting |
It is to realize upon your dying day | When you offer up your soul to God, its realising |
That you took the wrong path, that you made a mistake | That you took the wrong turning, got hold of the wrong idea. |
Let’s die for our ideas, but make it a slow death | Die for ideas, OK, but just make it a slow death, |
OK, make it a slow, slow death | OK, a slow death. |
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The fundamentalists who cry the martyr’s cry | The Saint Johns with mouths of gold who preach martyrdom |
Are usually the ones who linger on this earth | Usually manage to hang around on earth. |
To die for their ideals, for whatever it’s worth | Dying for ideas, let's be clear about it, |
Is their main obsession, it motivates their life | That's their reason for living, so they're not going to lose it. |
In almost every camp, every holy domain | In all the different camps you can see people who take the place |
These are the ones who will outlive Methuselem | Of Mathusalah when it comes to longevity. |
Which leads me to conclude their favorite refrain’s | I conclude from this that they must say to themselves, aside, |
Let’s die for our ideas, but make it a slow death | "Die for ideas, OK, but just make it a slow death, |
OK, make it a slow, slow death | OK, a slow death." |
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Ideas which demand the famous sacrifice | For ideas demanding the ultimate sacrifice, |
Are endlessly revived by sects of every stripe | Sects of every shade offer the sequel, |
And every new victim wonders before he dies | And the question arises in the minds of novice victims: |
To die for an idea is lovely, but which type? | "Die for ideas, that's fine, but which ones?" |
And since they’re all about the same in most respects | And as they all resemble each other, |
The wise man, when he sees their mighty banners wave | When he sees them approaching under their big banners, |
Will always hesitate, as he sidesteps the grave | The wise man hesitates, turns around the tomb. |
Let’s die for our ideas, but make it a slow death | Die for ideas, OK, but just make it a slow death, |
OK, make it a slow, slow death | OK, a slow death. |
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If a few killing fields, a few communal graves | Now, if it just needed a few hecatombs |
Were all it took to do the trick once and for all | For everything to change, everything fall into place, |
With all the nights of terror, all the heads that fall | After so many "great eves" when so many heads fall, |
You’d think by now the whole world would be saved | We would already have reached Paradise on earth. |
Alas, the golden age is constantly delayed | But the golden age is constantly put off to the Kalends, |
The gods are thirsty yet, they’re never satisfied | The gods are always thirsty, have never had enough, |
So death and death resumes, and still more people die | And its death, death again and again. |
Let’s die for our ideas, but make it a slow death | Die for ideas, OK, but just make it a slow death, |
OK, make it a slow, slow death | OK, a slow death. |
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Oh all you firebrands, all you fishers of men | O all you firebreathers, o all you good apostles, |
Please be the first to die, we’ll get out of your way | Go and die first, we stand back and let you through. |
But, for the love of god, let the rest of us live | But please, I beg you, let the rest of us get on with living, |
Life is the last luxury left us anyway | Life is just about our only luxury down here. |
The reaper is a crafty type and needs no help | For after all, Death is sufficiently vigilant, |
No need to speed his work by sharpening his blade | He doesn't need anyone to hold his scythe for him. |
So stop your dance of death, you’re only giving aid | Let's have no more macabre dances around the scaffold. |
Let’s die for our ideas, but make it a slow death | Die for ideas, OK, but just make it a slow death, |
OK, make it a slow, slow death | OK, a slow death. |