Zbiór tekstów różnych wykonawców

Tekst :

Down the vast hills in morning mist cold
Into the peaceful deep valley below.
Twothousand stallions foaming with hate
Carrying their masters towards their fate
Into the battle they ride
Twothousand men too young to die.
Massacre......

Coming from each side prepared for attack
Covered in dustclouds now there is no turning back
Once so peaceful valley echoes with cries
Cascades of blood and brains as the midday sun rise
Under a bloodred sky
None will live to face the night
Massacre......

Amidst the scattered limbs dead bodies finally comes to peace
While the stench of blood grows strong in the mild midday breeze
Circling the sky the vultures wait to play their part
To descend of wings of death and feast from human hearts
The battle is lost still someone always wins
And now they descend on death s black wings
Massacre......
(Massacre......)

Uh, your bad self
Help me break this down from off the shelf
Here s a music servin you so use it
Papa s got a brand new funk
Get down (party for your right)
Huh, let s get it on
Like we said before
They say the brothers causin trouble
Hate to bust their bubble
...

Words confuse and create equivocal thoughts
Thoughts silently transmit our inner essence
The eternal silence leads to oblivion.
I am contradiction, the boundary, inside and outside
I am difficulty, immoderation, mannerism, simplicity,
rigor, baroque, minimalism
I m like this music that twists around itself,
that gets torn and recomposes.
I m the result of a test, the survivor...

& Talib Kweli

(Chorus)
Around my way...
Around my way...
All the corners filled with sorrow
All the streets are filled with pain
Around my way...

Around my way...
Around my way...
All the corners filled with sorrow
All the streets are filled with pain
Around...

All witches fly to me...
I have torn the veil of dreams,
Enraptured by (the gleam of) moon-frost s caress,
My heart is held in icy thrall,
The horned moon s sweet enchantment,
The topaz throne is beckoning,
The jewelled sword awaits my grasp,
The dreaming gods now grimly brood in
The silence of atlantean spires.
The sky is...

He comes for conversation
I comfort him sometimes
Comfort and consultation
He knows that s what he ll find
I bring him grapes and cheeses
He brings me songs to play
He sees me when he pleases
I see him in cafes