Pierre Rivière 皮埃爾·里維爾歌詞

作詞 : Urizen Society_由理生社
作曲 : Urizen Society_由理生社
編曲 : Urizen Society_由理生社
When I Was Little
There Was A Beautiful Garden In Our Backyard
A Fountain With Two Spouts Stood In The Middle Of Flower Field
Where Father And Mother Were Always Spending Their Whole Days
They Told Me That I Was Born In The Spring
Home Alas My Home
One Adept’s Guide
One Seeker’s Rope
One Suicidal Dolphin
One Match In the Box
One Deep Purple Chiffon Dress
One Full Set Of Flowing Chains
One Feather Stuffed Ghost
One Fable And Tape
See The Illusion Is Tearing Him
The Poem of Newness Makes Us Sleep
Meanwhile He’s Counting Again
Diachronic Kings ’re Kissing The Sun
To Skyfall Hounds Are Creeping
To Brass Bell Of One’s Interior
His Thoughts Follow All The Craftsmen
To The Hell Of Insect And Heaven Of Whales
Those Black Faces Are Moving Closer
The Poem Of Individualization
Is being Cut Into The Funicle
Stairways Of The Guilt Slowly
Extends To The Tombs Around
We’re Crossing Through The Chromatic Valley
And I Would Build A Tower To Home
Strike the Abadir That Made Jupiter Survive
Conjure the Shades Of Livings In The Wasteland
The Maggots Are Born To Mimic All-Inclusion
Gaze it
Til The Death’s Coming
He Sees The Emerald
Along with The Tablet
The Left Wolfram
Besides The Archway
Autogène Reborn in the Bonfire Of Books
Foresees The Reversal Of The Whole World
Don't Blow The French Horn Of Brahms
Smash The Stars
And The Unbearable Sky
Open The Gates in Souls Quietly
You Praise The Sun
But Never Know Who’s Towards It
He is The Shadow Of His Elderliness
And The Only Lover From The Future
Mon père, et moi
Dans la charrette
Arrivé
Ma mère se jette sur mon père
Elle le grime
Elle le grime à la figure
Mon père a viré ma mère
Il l’attrape par les cheveux
C’est-à-dire il la grippe, il la trappe pas du tout, dans l’exception de quelques soufflets
Il tâchait de la conduire, il tâchait de la relever pour la conduire
Il frappait pas comme elle disait
Et elle, par contre : il me tue, il m’assassine, vengeance ! Mon Dieu！
Vengeance !
I See Two Meteorites
Falling Deeply Down
The Cloud Drifting Away On The Ground
Turns Into The Gray Building
The Blood Of Autogène is Being Sucked Up
By The Mortal In The World
The Mortal In The World
Move To The Dawn In The End Of The Era
Where People Would Turn Into The Comma
Copulating With Demons Towards Alethea
Saturn is Wielding The Sickle
Along The Serpent And Golden Bird
The Lightening Is Lashing
All Hands With Wands
And the Heart And the Liver
I Desire To Have My Infant Portrait
Turn Back
To that Beingless Stream
Stars are Descending Like Apollo’s Hair
The Tragic Poems
Soon Shall Swirl.