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Press The Pressure

Luna Field


When on the shore of wild singing fate came, with raving mad eyes - with stubbornness -
fame hurried in front of her, in wide garments of might, escorted by a choir of hundreds.
But I sowed seeds of discord when they dived their moods in me,
I sowed seeds of discord when they saw who lived on the shore...

You are not - judges for the one you can´t judge.
You are not - saviour for the one you can´t save.
You are not - tamer for the one you can´t tame.
You are not - conqueror for the one who is conqueror itself.

So when they ventured a glance into my eyes they stopped before me and went silent
...and anxious...and depressed with me beyond their choir.
Now the sun inclines in my stormy heart. Now I scream to the gods of fate.

"I am - I´m ready for the new battle against you
...and can you hear it yet? The din of our battle in my heart."

Not without cause the sun now reached zenith in my heart:
I killed the gods again, I killed the mighty floods...
When the shore of wild singing fate died, with tearful blood - and stubbornness cried,
I scared her ocean around the wild shore and let sing my holy choir:

And up towards heaven I soared like birds in the wintertime;
winds were never more than while I praised...
Now the sun stares at the flapping of wings. Now I scream to the god of the living.

You are not - judges for the one you can´t judge.
You are not - saviour for the one you can´t save.
You are not - tamer for the one you can´t tame.
You are not - conqueror for the one who is conqueror itself.

"I am - I´m ready for the new battle against you
...and can you hear it yet? The din of our battle in my heart."

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