Текст
The King of Oblivion
(Written by Kirk McLeod, arranged by Seven Nations)
Between the refuge of the interstate overpass
And the Sun State building stretching twenty-four stories to the skies
Car tires and cat's eyes sing a lullaby
He walks the sidewalk like he's dancing on fire
He climbs the fire escape like there's no place higher than his room
He can feel all eyes upon him when he moves
If you see me I'll be hypnotized
From the fourteenth row I see rust on his hands
Outside it's Church Street where all the people sing
Hail to the King of oblivion
He's born on Friday but he's Saturday's child
From his room down the hall I hear his radio dialed to a
Broadway serenade
As ashes on beer cans make their promenade
If you see me I will be mesmerized
From my empty row I feel moved to my feet
Outside it's Church Street where all the people sing
Hail to the King of oblivion
And he looks around him
And he finds himself alone
But rewards of unconsciousness
Are yet to be had, to be had
If you see me I'll be hypnotized
From the fourteenth row I see rust on his hands
Outside it's Church Street where all the people sing
Hail to the King of oblivion
If you see me I'll be mesmerized
From my empty row I feel moved to my feet
When his song is complete I hear the people sing
Hail to the King of oblivion
Of oblivion
Перевод
Король Обливиона
(Написано Кирком Маклеодом, аранжировано Seven Nations)
Между убежищем межгосударственного эстакады
И зданием Солнечного штата, простирающимся на двадцать четыре этажа до небес
Автомобильные шины и кошачьи глаза поют колыбельную
Он идет по тротуару, как будто танцует в огне
Он поднимается по пожарной лестнице, как будто нет места выше его комнаты
Он чувствует на себе все взгляды, когда он движется
Если вы увидите меня, я буду загипнотизирован
С четырнадцатого ряда я вижу ржавчину на его руках
Снаружи это Черч-стрит, где все поют
Слава Королю забвения
Он родился в пятницу, но он субботний ребенок
Из его комнаты дальше по коридору я слышу, как его радио настроено на бродвейскую серенаду
Пока пепел на пивных банках гуляет
Если вы меня увидите, я буду загипнотизирован
Из моего пустого ряда я чувствую движение на ногах
Снаружи это Черч-стрит, где все люди поют
Слава Королю забвения
И он оглядывается
И он оказывается один
Но награда за бессознательное состояние
Еще не получена, не получена
Если ты увидишь меня, я буду загипнотизирован
Из в четырнадцатом ряду я вижу ржавчину на его руках
Снаружи это Черч-стрит, где все поют
Слава Королю забвения
Если ты увидишь меня, я буду загипнотизирован
От моего пустого row Я чувствую движение на ноги
Когда его песня закончена, я слышу, как люди поют
Слава Королю забвения
Забвения
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