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lirik lagu sopor aeternus – where the ancient laurel grows

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i wish that he and i, at least once in a while
had something small in common …-a secret, if you like.
but there’s no common ground here, not a single thing we share,
on the same planet we live, but in two different worlds.

he clearly did not like me, that part was plain to see,
the very moment that he laid his grey eyes on me.
his buff, muscular body like the old cliché marine.
oh not too many times before (thank goodness) have i seen…

so much contempt on a single white man’s face,
his fists were clutched so tightly that his brute fingernails
left bleeding marks in the rough palms of his hands…
all just to ensure that we would never, ever become friends!

if i felt like jesting now, which, believe me, i am not,
i might compare his red face to a boiling teapot,
or and old locomotive, far too quickly building up steam,
its mighty kettle seen to explode, if he finds no quick release.

do you think it’s strange of me to hope someday he’ll marry me,
or at least feel the strongest need to hold me when i fall & bleed?
oh, i wish that he and i were just a little more alike,
or had a tiny thing in common …-oh, wouldn’t that be nice…

yes, he sleeps nakedly, while i always sleep fully dressed.
he is full of life, i am mostly depressed.
i guess, that’s why i wish that he would want to take a walk with me
trough lonely fields of sorrow, the only place i’ve seen…

in vague daydreams i’m dreaming about stains of his s-m-n,
not necessarily on me, more as a… “theory”.
sometimes i wish that he would fondly think of me
each time he strokes his p-n-s …-or when the clock strikes three.


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