Ashes Ashes Ashes Ashes
Precious Ashes precious ashes
Ring around the rosies
A pocket full of posies
Ashes Ashes
We all fall down.
A city in mourning, a city in plague.
The houses are barred, lives are at stake.
The women are crying
and strong men are sighing
the rats are a-roaming and people are dying
The rich men have all fled the town –
Proud London is bound to go down.
A bakershop’s oven brings forth more than bread:
The fire burns on as the baker lies dead.
And no one is knowing
that embers are glowing
The flames have escaped and the red seed is growing
The fire will do as it must
This city will soon burn to dust.
O Fire am I, the Great Fire you’ll call me
I rage and I ravage, I reap and destroy
O Fire am I, all world falls before me
My lust is in killing, I’m burning with joy.
The fires of heaven, the fires of hell
No matter who sent them, the fires burn well
To kill and to plunder
tear houses asunder
with flames bright as lightning and roaring like thunder.
And when the cathedral is lost
Folks know that the threshold’s been crossed.… Weiterlesen
Memories of laying down, but no memories of sleep.
In my memories I drown, but awake I cannot keep.
O my eyes I cannot open, I can’t even move my head.
To fly freely, I’m but hopin’
and my flame … and my flame … and my flame … and my flame…
I am not dead!
What’s these mountains that surround me? When I lay, there was but grass.
Brothers, sisters all around me turned to stone as time did pass,
When the moments turned to hours and millennia went by
And we lay as silent towers
And we slept … and we slept … and we slept … and we slept…
We did not die!
Fire burn – do not wither, flame!
Ages turn – won’t you call my name?
Breath – don’t leave me alone
I do not wish to turn to stone
Where’s the flame I held so dearly? Where’s the spark that was my soul?
O if only I’d see clearly, but I feel I am not whole.
There’s remembrances of fire and some heat I cannot hold
while I flew so high an higher
in my dreams … in my dreams … in my dreams … in my dreams …
My world’s grown old!… Weiterlesen
Was ihr heut Garten nennt ist unser Friedhof.
Da hüpft und spielt dein Kind auf meinem Grab.
Dort wo die Büsche sind, da stehn die Steine, so alt und grau,
die Schrift verwittert, doch ich kenne sie genau.
Da stand ein Haus aus schwarzem Stein, darin wohnten wir.
Wir lebten gut, denn wir hatten Macht.
Wir herrschten über jeden Mensch, über jedes Tier
Bis dann das Feuer kam in der Nacht.
Das ist so viele Jahre her, doch nie vorbei …
Was ihr heut Garten nennt ist unser Friedhof.
Da hüpft und spielt dein Kind auf meinem Grab.
Dort wo die Büsche sind, da stehn die Steine, so alt und grau,
die Schrift verwittert, doch ich kenne sie genau.
Das Feuer kam, jedoch durch wen, das erfuhrn wir nicht,
denn es hat keiner den Tag erlebt.
Es fraß uns auf mit seinem gierigen roten Licht
Und unser Zauber war ausgewebt.
Das ist so viele Jahre her, doch nie vorbei …
Was ihr heut Garten nennt ist unser Friedhof.
Da hüpft und spielt dein Kind auf meinem Grab.
Dort wo die Büsche sind, da stehn die Steine, so alt und grau,
die Schrift verwittert, doch ich kenne sie genau.
Weil wir zur Lebzeit so böse warn, wie man sagt,
bracht uns der Tod auch nur Tod, nicht Ruh:
Man hat uns direkt aus dem Himmel wieder verjagt,
wir drehn der Hölle den Rücken zu.… Weiterlesen
You call it garden fair, but it’s our cemetary.
Your child will skip and dance upon my grave.
And where the bushes grow, you’ll find our stones, they’re so old and grey –
Their words are weathered, but I know what they do say:
The was a castle with black walls and it was our home.
We were magicians of wealth and fame.
We were the lords of every man, every beat to roam
until the night that the fires came.
It was so many years ago, yet it’s not past…
You call it garden fair, but it’s our cemetary.
Your child will skip and dance upon my grave.
And where the bushes grow, you’ll find our stones, they’re so old and grey –
Their words are weathered, but I know what they do say:
The fire came yet who did light it, we’d never learn
for no one lived till the break of day.
With greedy flames all of our skin, our bones did burn
and all our magic was cast away.
It was so many years ago, yet it’s not past…
You call it garden fair, but it’s our cemetary.
Your child will skip and dance upon my grave.… Weiterlesen
