(+) Realita
Eine Musik so schA¶n und blau wie ihre Augen
Voller Schmerz in seinem Glauben
Kam von diesem kleinen Zimmer
Sein Ein und Alles, seine Flucht vor der RealitA¤t
Er spielte und hA¶rte zu
Und Verstand kam besser von seiner Hand
Seine GefA¼hle in drei Minuten
Gab ihr Einsicht in sein Leben
In seinem Leben brauchte er nur zwei Sachen
Sie und sein Gitarre
Aber dazu war er nicht stark genug um zu tragen
Ein Fluss voller Freuden und Klagen
Dann verlass Sie das Zimmer des Lebens und er war allein
Er rufte nach ihr
Seine Stimme schallte in dem leeren Zimmer
Und er war allein
Nur er und seine Gitarre ohne Saiten
Und die Musik war stilla€|
Seine Gedanken waren so froh wenn er spielte
So schA¶n und bunt
Nichts in der Welt konnte ihn erregen
Er war perfekt wie die anderen
Die Musik war ein Ausweg, eine Medizin fA¼r seine Krankheit
Er hatte alles unter Kontrolle, alles war in Ordnung
Tag ein, tag aus, dankte er Gott fA¼r seine HA¤nde
Die Musik war sein Verstand
Er spielte lauter und lauter
Aber Zeit war nicht auf seiner Seite
Kaum konnte er seine Finger merken, aber er konnte sie fA¼hlen
Es wurde sehr leise
Und die Musik war stilla€|
[Translation:]
A music as beautiful and blue as her eyes
Full of pain in his beliefs
Came from this small room
That meant the world to him, being his escape from reality
He played and listened
His mind spoke better through his hands
His feelings in three minutes
Gave her insight to his life
In his life he needed two things only
Her and his guitar
But that he wasn't strong enough to carry
A river of joy and grief
Then she left the room of life and he was alone
He cried for her
His voice echoed in that empty room
And he was alone
Just him and his guitar without strings
And the music was silent...
His thoughts were so bright when he played
So pretty and colorful
Nothing in the world could provoke him
He was perfect as anyone else
Music was his resort, a medicine for his disease
He had everything under control, everything was fine
Day in, day out he thanked God for his hands
Music was his sanity
He played louder and louder
But time wasn't on his side
He could hardly sense his fingers, but he could feel them
It got very quiet
And the music was silent...
-----------------
Still
Hurt
Voller Schmerz in seinem Glauben
Kam von diesem kleinen Zimmer
Sein Ein und Alles, seine Flucht vor der RealitA¤t
Er spielte und hA¶rte zu
Und Verstand kam besser von seiner Hand
Seine GefA¼hle in drei Minuten
Gab ihr Einsicht in sein Leben
In seinem Leben brauchte er nur zwei Sachen
Sie und sein Gitarre
Aber dazu war er nicht stark genug um zu tragen
Ein Fluss voller Freuden und Klagen
Dann verlass Sie das Zimmer des Lebens und er war allein
Er rufte nach ihr
Seine Stimme schallte in dem leeren Zimmer
Und er war allein
Nur er und seine Gitarre ohne Saiten
Und die Musik war stilla€|
Seine Gedanken waren so froh wenn er spielte
So schA¶n und bunt
Nichts in der Welt konnte ihn erregen
Er war perfekt wie die anderen
Die Musik war ein Ausweg, eine Medizin fA¼r seine Krankheit
Er hatte alles unter Kontrolle, alles war in Ordnung
Tag ein, tag aus, dankte er Gott fA¼r seine HA¤nde
Die Musik war sein Verstand
Er spielte lauter und lauter
Aber Zeit war nicht auf seiner Seite
Kaum konnte er seine Finger merken, aber er konnte sie fA¼hlen
Es wurde sehr leise
Und die Musik war stilla€|
[Translation:]
A music as beautiful and blue as her eyes
Full of pain in his beliefs
Came from this small room
That meant the world to him, being his escape from reality
He played and listened
His mind spoke better through his hands
His feelings in three minutes
Gave her insight to his life
In his life he needed two things only
Her and his guitar
But that he wasn't strong enough to carry
A river of joy and grief
Then she left the room of life and he was alone
He cried for her
His voice echoed in that empty room
And he was alone
Just him and his guitar without strings
And the music was silent...
His thoughts were so bright when he played
So pretty and colorful
Nothing in the world could provoke him
He was perfect as anyone else
Music was his resort, a medicine for his disease
He had everything under control, everything was fine
Day in, day out he thanked God for his hands
Music was his sanity
He played louder and louder
But time wasn't on his side
He could hardly sense his fingers, but he could feel them
It got very quiet
And the music was silent...
-----------------
Still
Hurt
2020-04-12 12:08:09
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