тексты из одного альбома Sopor Aeternus

~ Always within the hour ~

Have I, without knowledge, made a subtle pass at you, or have the poses that are mine to strike then perhaps posed a threat to you?
Have I crossed the thin line now, that guards your un-enchanted barn, was it my simple friendliness that stirred the peasants, causing this alarm?

Hänsel, call your soldiers back, this witch sticks to her gingerbread.
Girlfriends, wives or fiancees will save your sacred straightness from disgrace.

Such ugliness laid eyes on you in conversation, plain to see.
Your signals, clearly advertising, stressing the obvious to me!
Oh, bite your tongue, is it too much to ask for, can’t you just for once, keep it in.
Oh, please don’t say it … - spare me your painful arrogance!

Hänsel, call your soldiers back, this witch sticks to her gingerbread.
Girlfriends, wives or fiancees will save your sacred straightness from disgrace.

Say:
Have I, without knowledge, made a subtle pass at you, or have the poses that are mine to strike then perhaps posed a threat to you?
Have I, out of saddest habit, stared for too long at one spot?
Or has my silence been mistaken for pondering on your private parts?

Hänsel, call your soldiers back, this witch sticks to her gingerbread.
Girlfriends, wives or fiancees will save your sacred straightness from disgrace.

~ In Der Palästra ~

As through the pipes the waters fell down to the bottom of the well, in listless apathy I gazed at the cold waters … - as he bathed.
I half behold that scenery and its most sensual masculinity.
Yet, disappointment, oh, can’t you see, is still the cause and the cardinal symptom of my sick, sad reality.

Silver equals chill, but that suits me just fine. I’m shyly sipping water … while he drinks whole jugs of wine. He likes all kind of women, and I … I only HATE … men.
He marvels at all things new to him … - and I only wait … for all things in this sick world … to end.

The water pouring down his spine, caressed his strong physique, oh, so well-defined, calm like a rock he stands, oh, behold his beautiful body and soul a friendly God must have built this man to an all well-balanced whole.
What sad bewilderment this brought, physical clearness, alas, still so much abhorred: an ancient ghost awoke and fiercely arose in me: it was that old, savage, yet half-forgotten ideal of perfect neutrality.

Silver equals chill, but that suits me just fine. I’m shyly sipping water … while he drinks whole jugs of wine. He likes all kind of women, and I … I only HATE … men. He marvels at all things new to him … - and I only wait … for all things in this sick world … to end.

I somewhat envy this naturally beautiful man, he never knew or encountered the hatred and shame that I bare. The doubt, the cloak of disgust and the all-devouring dread, and if I told him about it, he might only shake his head with kindly amused, melodious laughter, he then would perhaps merely smile at my … oh, so stupid silliness … and the BEAST that is raging inside.

~ A little bar of soap ~

(the choir):
Purify your soul, boy!
I wish I was a little bar of soap
I wish I was a little bar of soap
I’d go slippy slippy, slimy over everybody’s heinie
I wish I was a little bar of soap
Bar of soap
(the choir):
Hmm- ba - bar of soap
Slippy, slippy, slime
Hmm-ba - bar of soap
Wouldn't that be fine?
Oh-hmm-ba - bar of soap
Slippy, slippy, slime
Hmm-ba - bar of soap
To purify your soul and your behind.
 

~ Bitter Sweet ~
(version of Roxy Music song, originally written by Bryan Ferry & Andrew Mackay)

Well this is 

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