Cripple Bastards — Conclusione song lyrics and translation
The page contains the lyrics and English translation of the song "Conclusione" by Cripple Bastards.
Lyrics
Rabbia e senso di ossessione
scoglio angusto, esasperazione
penso e cresce, dormo e muore
fango sparso sul loro amore
Aule sature di inquisizione
digrigna ossa nella tensione
penso e cresce, urlo e muore
sono l’ombra che dilata il tuo terrore
ÉDA ANNI CHE NON CI SEI
GIOCHI USATI — RIPETI E FAI
RASSEGNATO AL «TI ABITUERAI»
Corpi si sbattono ingordi di attenzione
nel mio nome la loro conclusione
penso e cresce, esco e muore
una morsa secca che scortica il cuore.
Peggio che vivere, tu vuoi transitare
chi mi osserva lo dovràscontare.
CONCLUSIONE -----------
CONCLUSO ---------------
P. S.
Peggio che vivere, tu vuoi transitare:
mi fa schifo la gente che guarda, tace, seleziona da dentro,
conserva riflessioni per imminenti dibattiti
con una cerchia chiusa di prescelti…
.tutti surrogati da torturare e eliminare.
Il mio nome éla tua conclusione:
siamo su frequenze diverse,
il riflesso dei miei occhi su un bancone di metallo,
la disposizione degli strumenti da taglio,
ogni gesto intriso di morte, i dettagli del tuo tormento,
dalle grida piùlancinanti ai piùflebili sospiri.
Rivoli di sangue e secrezione si incanalano nel bordo concavo,
penso alla rivincita della creativitàin un’epoca dormitorio
adagiata sulle abitudini e sulla tendenza alla rassegnazione…
Non ho coscienza, non do piùimportanza ai valori
su cui éfondato questo aggregato di passivitàe oblio,
me ne fotto dei tuoi diritti di essere-cosmopolìta,
voglio stare dalla parte del ragno che attende intrepido le sue vittime,
assaporare il gusto della paura piùcieca
— pupille esplodono dall’esasperazione
— cellule impazziscono per lo sbalzo di situazione
vederti tremare, rantolare, soccombere.
Dentro a ogni boia c'éun frammento di me:
(…) costruisco nella mente i gironi del mio inferno privato…
. tutti quelli che ci finirebbero dentro, la camera di smistamento,
il clima di angoscia e degrado in cui sarebbe immerso.
IO, carnefice multiforme, sovrano di ogni supplizio,
ideatore delle nefandezze piùestreme (…)
CONCLUSION
… AND ALL YOUR WORK WILL END IN NOTHINGNESS!
Rage and sense of obsession
narrow rock, exasperation
I think and it grows, I sleep and it dies
mud spilled on their love
Rooms saturated with inquisition
as you gnash your bones in tension
I think and it grows, I scream and it dies
I’m the shadow in which your terror grows
IT’S YEARS SINCE YOU’VE BEEN HERE
USED TOYS — REPEAT AND DO
RESIGNED TO «YOU'LL GET INTO THE HABIT»
Bodies strain themselves in search of attention
in my name their conclusion
I think and it grows, I go out and it dies
a sharp grip skinning the heart
worse than living — you want to pass by those who observe me will have to expiate it CONCLUSION — - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
CONCLUDED — - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
P. S.
Worse than living, you want to pass by: /
the people who look, say nothing, select from inside revolt me /
they keep ideas for imminent debates with a limited circle of the chosen few. /
.all surrogates to torture and eliminate. /
My name is your conclusion: /
we are on different frequencies, /
reflection of my eyes on a metallic counter top, /
the arrangement of the cutting instruments, /
every gesture intrinsic to death, the details of your torment, /
from the most lacerating screams to the weakest of sighs. /
Streams of blood and secretions run down the concave edge, /
I think about revenge of creativity in a dormitory age
resting on the habits and tendencies of resignation… /
I have no conscience, I no longer place importance on the values
this aggregate of passiveness and oblivion is founded on /
I don’t give a shit for your rights of cosmopolitan ass /
I want to be on the side of the spider who awaits his victims intrepidly /
savour the taste of your blindest fear: /
— pupils exploding from exasperation /
— cells going mad from the change in situation /
see you tremble, groan and give up. /
In every executioner there’s a fragment of me: /
(…) in my mind, I build the circles of a private hell… /
.all those they’d end up in, the sorting room, /
the climate of anguish and degradation they would be plunged into. /
I, many-formed executioner, sovreign of every torment, /
artificer of the most extreme evil (…) /
Lyrics translation
Anger and sense of obsession
cramped rock, exasperation
I think and grow, sleep and die
mud scattered on their love
Classrooms saturated with Inquisition
grind bones in tension
I think and grow, scream and die
I am the shadow that spreads your terror
IT'S BEEN YEARS SINCE YOU'RE GONE.
USED GAMES-REPEAT AND DO
RESIGNED TO THE "YOU WILL GET USED TO»
Bodies slam greedy for attention
in my name their conclusion
I think and grow, I go out and die
a dry vise that Skinns the heart.
Worse than living, you want to transit
those who observe me will have to tell.
CONCLUSION -----------
CONCLUDE ---------------
P.S.
Worse than living, you want to transit:
it sucks people who watch, shut up, select from within,
save reflections for upcoming debates
with a closed circle of chosen…
.all surrogates to torture and eliminate.
My name is your conclusion:
we're on different frequencies,
the reflection of my eyes on a metal counter,
the arrangement of cutting tools,
every gesture imbued with death, the details of your torment,
from the heaviest cries to the feverest sighs.
Rivulets of blood and secretion channel into the concave edge,
I think about the rematch of creativityin a dorm age
lying on habits and the tendency to resign…
I have no conscience, I no longer attach importance to values
on which this aggregate of passivity and Oblivion is based,
I don't give a shit about your rights to be-cosmopolita,
I want to be on the side of the spider who waits intrepid for its victims,
savor the taste of fear morecareful
- pupils explode from exasperation
- cells go crazy for the situation overhang
to see you tremble, rant, succumb.
Inside every executioner is a fragment of me:
( ... ) I build in my mind the groups of my private hell…
. everyone who would end up in there, the Sorting Room.,
the climate of anguish and degradation in which he would be immersed.
IO, carnefice multiforme, sovrano di ogni supplizio,
ideatore delle nefandezze piùestreme (…)
CONCLUSION
… AND ALL YOUR WORK WILL END IN NOTHINGNESS!
Rage and sense of obsession
narrow rock, exasperation
I think and it grows, I sleep and it dies
mud spilled on their love
Rooms saturated with inquisition
as you gnash your bones in tension
I think and it grows, I scream and it dies
I’m the shadow in which your terror grows
IT’S YEARS SINCE YOU’VE BEEN HERE
USED TOYS — REPEAT AND DO
RESIGNED TO «YOU'LL GET INTO THE HABIT»
Bodies strain themselves in search of attention
in my name their conclusion
I think and it grows, I go out and it dies
a sharp grip skinning the heart
worse than living — you want to pass by those who observe me will have to expiate it CONCLUSION — - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
CONCLUDED — - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
P. S.
Worse than living, you want to pass by: /
the people who look, say nothing, select from inside revolt me /
they keep ideas for imminent debates with a limited circle of the chosen few. /
.all surrogates to torture and eliminate. /
My name is your conclusion: /
we are on different frequencies, /
reflection of my eyes on a metallic counter top, /
the arrangement of the cutting instruments, /
every gesture intrinsic to death, the details of your torment, /
from the most lacerating screams to the weakest of sighs. /
Streams of blood and secretions run down the concave edge, /
I think about revenge of creativity in a dormitory age
resting on the habits and tendencies of resignation… /
I have no conscience, I no longer place importance on the values
this aggregate of passiveness and oblivion is founded on /
I don’t give a shit for your rights of cosmopolitan ass /
I want to be on the side of the spider who awaits his victims intrepidly /
savour the taste of your blindest fear: /
— pupils exploding from exasperation /
— cells going mad from the change in situation /
see you tremble, groan and give up. /
In every executioner there’s a fragment of me: /
(…) in my mind, I build the circles of a private hell… /
.all those they’d end up in, the sorting room, /
the climate of anguish and degradation they would be plunged into. /
I, many-formed executioner, sovreign of every torment, /
artificer of the most extreme evil (…) /