Альбом The Sound of Animals Fighting

[Farsi translation]
In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
Who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said, "Is it good, friend?"
"It is bitter – bitter", he answered,
"But I like it
Because it is bitter,
And because it is my heart."

There's a line, there's a dozen more
Wrapping in a room, your country doors
There's a man, he's holding a pitcher of water
Follow him into the house,

Every age has said, we will come, we'll come again
You will never get, up as close, as you expect
This house is a holy place, you don't ever have to leave
Every age has said, we will call, we'll come again

And when they say,
(oh yes, they please don't keep on going on and on) x4
The biggest lie we tell ourselves
We're already in hell
Blood shines upon us, it maces and covers.

There's a man that pours,
Throughout the floor and door,
There's a light and there's a dozen more
Nothing in the country doors.

Every age has said, we will come, we'll come again
(This is the last time this will happen)
You are will get, up as close, as you expect
This house is a holy place, you don't ever have to leave
(This is the last time this will happen)
Every age has said, we will call, we'll come again

We are taught to think of our success in terms of numbers
If touching one persons life is a good thing, then touching one thousands people lives must be a great thing,
It's easy to see where we learned to think this way
Our whole society revolves around mass production
The more units we can move
The more customers we can serve
The more boats we can get
The more money and the more stuff we have, the better, right?
Maybe it's not possible to touch one thousand peoples thinking, or as powerfully as one person.
Maybe it's not really so revolutionary after all, to have one person out of a group of twenty, tell everybody else what's right.
Wouldn't it be better if we tried a decentralized approach where everyone works closely with those around them, instead of a few people waiting in anonymous mass?
Do you have to save the world all by yourself, why don't you trust someone else to do it with you?

I, the Swan am beautiful and phallic. Brushed.
Canvas draped, paint peeled.
Gallons of something puddles and you take the pictures.

Hurl stones around breaths.
There will be shadows and holes.

I, the Swan am beautiful and a desist in space between being and idea.

I, the Swan am beautiful and phallic. Brushed.
Neck stiff, a stone-ed image of different male.
Words will work swollen kindered knees to the floor.

Canvas draped, paint peeled.
Gallons of something puddles and you take the pictures.

I, the Swan am beautiful and phallic.
Canvas draped, can I feel?
I, the Swan am beautiful and phallic.
Canvas draped, can I feel?

He picked up a large white vase and pitched it.
Sharp porcelain lined the shapless pool of liquid formed by its contents.
Of the man that pulled at my feathers.

The artist, the true manifestation of struggle.
The shattered porcelain greeted back with fresh wounds.
Memories. To be, naked.

I, the Swan am beautiful and phallic.
Canvas draped, can I feel?

Descended, so. Descended so, it's madness.
Just so happens to be right beneath me.
This is complex, as her head drifts by.

This test is worthless.
It forms without a pattern but that's reasonable.
It forms without a pattern, without reason.
It forms without a pattern but that's reasonable.
It forms without a pattern, without reason.

Our friends became when there's room for their name.
This is not as strong as you thought.
In a series of cells, I'm so lucky to be a part of.
They didn't never be the same again (they will never be the same).

It won't take as long as you have.
It won't take as long as you have.
It won't be as hard as you had.
It won't be as hard as you had.

Attention, he won't be enough.
No, I don't love you.
We won't be enough.
(Don't let it get away)
Don't let it take the stage.
Don't let it take the stage.

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The world owes me nothing, yet has given me a great deal.

Away from all the children, away. Fear the walls that you made.
All your fears are mine, airplanes and time fly far away.

Time is the only distance, between the artist and the masterpiece.
Running around our business, explaining what i should have picked
sitting in a seating chair, with papers on the wall
Twiddling your rubber thumbs, in a sea of alphabetical

Let your heart break, in pain; you'll find the truth
Let your mind spin, the burden of logic and proof

They try to take away. We must turn our boredom to gratitude.

I love, love, love.
I want, want, want.
I need, need, need.
I am, am , am.

The world owes me nothing, yet has given me a great deal.

Who wrote your words?
Who sews your strings?
Who built your boat?
Who placed your bet?

Why do I wonder?
Some people never even ask.
What are you thinking? Who's in charge?

(Spoken word)
I don't understand French, but if I could,
I would write beautiful songs about horrible things...
because it is said to be the language of love and romance...
and if love didn't exist, there wouldn't be any horrible things.
You must care to cry, love something in order to hate something...
You must have a heart in order for it to be broken.
Many people walk in a dream.
They feel entitled to happiness and feel anger when it is not waiting for them.
I know that the world owes me nothing, yet has given me a great deal.
It is our own perception we get to bend and mold to our liking-
once that is accomplished, the reality we once knew begins to change.
My neighbor may be dark and gloomy, but I find it a perfect day to go outside.
I can knock on his door, but that doesn't mean he will answer.
And I will have to walk away, sad, from his little house
where he sleeps and smokes and drinks all day,
just to escape what he does not yet know.
We find ourselves in little boxes watching little boxes.
We see an edited version of human life, targeted on alienating us as individuals,
to distract us from the seedy underbelly of politics and business.
We are products of a Machiavellian society.
Look at the pretty girl dancing- her hair is so shiny.
I want my hair to be shiny. Look at the man with chizzled features-
use the razor he is using. It will give you the kind of charm that woman crave.
Women will want you. Men will adore you. You will be happy. You will be empty.
Because it is not about the product, but the feeling they try to convey.
And it is not for your benefit, it is for the benefit of the holders of the company.
We must burn our little boxes. We must create dialogue.
We must realize the importance of every moment.
We must turn our boredom to gratitude.
Use your hands, your thoughts, your hunger.
These things are yours and yours alone.

Rhyme on reason, an abstraction
Dissonant dreamscapes, alone in none..
Reflection, run the relapse, force another one down
It's inevitable, we all must return to the full creation
I lied through my teeth when I sweared that I'd never go back, never go back
Cause it gets so, gets so cold
You can't find the reason, you ain't looking hard enough to deny deny

Sticking and sopping, submerged our skin together
Oh how you free me, must we gift each other

They say she's sleepy, falls and proverbs of her words, lucky you
the sign, sign of being alone,

It's a long way home, it's a long way...thinking horizon is out of reach
It's a long way home, it's a long way...meaningless memories
It's a long way home.

Sticking and sopping, submerged our skin together
Oh how you free me, must we gift each other

In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
Who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said, "Is it good, friend?"
"It is bitter – bitter", he answered,
"But I like it
Because it is bitter,
And because it is my heart."

There's a choir always
softly scream
They will just send praises
Of my...
Any shortcoming...

The sky's...
... and him his master was
He thought it special
My feelings rose in circles

(can't tell if they are saying words or just making noises)

Slip knot flat footed come again
lift like that clip its off and in
little crown of dead and gilded lilies
Write down the flames of feather part and(That's what it sounds like to me)
Just what she warned but never said
They're sleeping sound and far away

To the constant Christmas lights
There were low supplies
in a crowded setting and guilty(?)....(or "in a crowded dead and guilty")
Oh, a signal on a train
it's a difference i can see
they're sleeping sound and far away

(again, can't tell if they are saying words or just making noises)

Hey, hey, hey (last hey is arpeggiated)