Jan Schneeweis Vidéos
compositeur tchèque
Commémorations 2024 (Naissance: Jan Schneeweis) 2025 (Décès: Jan Schneeweis)
- musique classique, musique traditionnelle
- Tchéquie
- compositeur ou compositrice, pianiste, chef ou cheffe de chœur, enseignant ou enseignante
Dernière mise à jour
2024-06-03
Actualiser
Artist: Pat 'The Bunny' Schneeweis Name: For The Sake Of The Ashes (The Darkness) Album: The Volatile Utopian Real Estate Market Lyrics: This morning I can't tell if I'm nihilist, or religious, or if there's even a difference. If god made the West Texas highway, guess there probably isn't. There's a darkness in my bones. It reaches all the way down to the mud. There's a spark that's in your eyes. It catches flame, and it burns all through my blood! And every friend locked up or raided, it's reason enough To go all in, to raise the stakes, to call the bluff. To burn all the world down For the sake of the ash. For the things that we've got coming through the storm of gasoline and broken glass. This morning I can't tell if I'm anarchist, or religious, or if there's even a difference. If I'm waiting for the right time to act, well, guess there probably isn't. There's a darkness in my bones. It reaches all the way down to the mud. There's a spark that's in your eyes. It catches flame, and it burns all through my blood! I don't own this song. The lyrics are made by me. Write in the comments which Song you want to have next!
Track Five of "The Volatile Utopian Real Estate Market" (http•••) Lyrics: This morning I can't tell if I'm nihilist, or religious, or if there's even a difference. If god made the West Texas highway, guess there probably isn't. There's a darkness in my bones. It reaches all the way down to the mud. There's a spark that's in your eyes. It catches flame, and it burns all through my blood. And every friend locked up or raided, it's reason enough to go all in, to raise the stakes, to call the bluff. To burn all the world down for the sake of the ash. For the things that we've got coming through the storm of gasoline and broken glass. This morning I can't tell if I'm anarchist, or religious, or if there's even a difference. If I'm waiting for the right time to act, well, guess there probably isn't. There's a darkness in my bones. It reaches all the way down to the mud. There's a spark that's in your eyes. It catches flame, and it burns all through my blood. "It seemed to me that the last human beings were dying in prisons and camps and would leave no heirs, while a horrible mutation of the species was taking place outside. I thought of committing suicide, or of finding a way to return to my prison cell so as to live out my days among comrades and die among human beings." (Fredy Perlman: Letters of insurgents)
Track Two of "The Volatile Utopian Real Estate Market" (http•••) lyrics: Came to this world a loaded handgun, firing at random. Hit the people who were closest, not the ones who deserved it and some of them still don't talk to me. Can't say I blame them for a second. I'll try to aim more carefully, but it's too late for that, I reckon, but not too late for regret. I'll walk barefoot and smoke inside any chance I get, but in the mean time: come on, let's go for a ride like we used to. Pistols drawn, screaming "liberty or death," although I think we wanted both somehow--but we'll take the cash instead. Stack it high, my friend, until it reaches to the sky, and us and god can call it even, and look each other in the eyes like you did to the county prosecutor. Told him that you were the shooter, but they'd never take you alive. Grabbed his pen, and stabbed him in the eye, ran off never to be seen again. When they strike, hit back harder. If you can't just hit back meaner. Everybody's got a name, and an address, and fragile bones to protect what's beating in their chest. Lash out, and vanish into mist. Gumshoes can take one in the head, same to anyone who's ever seen a cop and didn't bludgeon them to death, same to anyone who's ever had a job and didn't hang their fucking boss off the roof at the post office. So come on, let's take a ride like we used to. Daggers drawn, screaming "liberty or death," although I think we wanted both somehow. Came in this world a loaded handgun. I'll leave it empty, or not at all. "A definition of nihilism could be the realization that conditions in the social organization are so bad as to make destruction desirable for its own sake, independent of any constructive program or possibility. This exposes one of the greatest idealistic flaws of modern activism: The articulation of the specific world-to-be as a result of your actions does not guarantee that world's creation." (Aragorn: Nihilism, Anarchy and the 21st Century)
ou
- chronologie: Compositeurs (Europe). Chefs d’orchestre (Europe). Interprètes (Europe).
- Index (par ordre alphabétique): S...