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Thread: Songs That Make You Cry

  1. #11
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    Wish I was on yonder hill
    'Tis there I'd sit and cry my fill,
    And every tear would turn a mill,
    Is go dte tu mo mhuirnin slan

    [chorus]
    Siuil, siuil, siul a run,
    Siuil go sochair agus siuil go ciuin
    Siuil go doras agus ealaigh lion
    Is go dte tu mo mhuirnin slan

    I'll sell my rock, I'll sell my reel,
    I'll sell my only spinning wheel,
    To buy my love a sword of steel
    Is go dte tu mo mhuirnin slan.

    [chorus]

    I'll dye my petticoats, I'll dye them red,
    And 'round the world I'll beg my bread,
    Until my parents shall wish me dead,
    Is go dte tu mo mhuirnin slan.

    [chorus]

    But now my love has gone to France,
    To try his fortune to advance;
    If he e'er comes back, 'tis but a chance,
    Is go dte tu mo mhuirnin slan

    [chorus]

    I wish, I wish, I wish in vain,
    I wish I had my heart again,
    And vainly think I'd not complain,
    Is go dte tu mo mhuirnin slan

    [chorus]
    Translation :
    Walk, walk, walk, O love,
    Walk quickly to me, softly move;
    Walk to the door, and away we'll flee,
    And safe may my darling be.

  2. #12
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    Shinedown - burning bright


    "...The moral man is a lower species than the immoral, a weaker species; indeed - he is a type in regard to morality, but not a type in himself; a copy...the measure of his value lies outside him. ... I assess the power of a will by how much resistance, pain, torture it endures and knows how to turn to its advantage; I do not account the evil and painful character of existence a reproach to it, but hope rather that it will one day be more evil and painful than hitherto..." (Nietzsche)

  3. #13
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    Pantera - Hollow


    Hollow

    What's left inside him?
    Don't he remember us?
    Can't he believe me?
    We seemed like brothers
    Talked for hours last month
    About what we wanna be
    I sit now with his hand in mine
    But I know he can't feel...

    No one knows
    What's done is done
    It's as if he were dead

    I'm close with his mother
    And she cries endlessly
    Lord how we miss him
    At least what's remembered
    It's so important to make best friends in life
    But it's hard when my friend sits with blank expressions

    No one knows
    What's done is done
    It's as if he were dead

    He as hollow as I alone now
    He as hollow as I alone
    A shell of my friend
    Just flesh and bone
    There's no soul
    He sees no love
    I shake my fists at skies above
    Mad at God

    He as hollow as I converse
    I wish he'd waken from this curse
    Hear my words before it's through
    I want to come in after you
    My best friend

    He as hollow as I alone
    If christ is the answer then what is the question?

  4. #14
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    Radio Head - Fake Plastic Trees




    Her green plastic watering can
    For her fake chinese rubber plant
    In fake plastic earth.
    That she bought from a rubber man
    In a town full of rubber plants
    Just to get rid of itself.
    And it wears her out, it wears her out
    It wears her out, it wears her out.

    She lives with a broken man
    A cracked polystyrene man
    Who just crumbles and burns.
    He used to do surgery
    For girls in the eighties
    But gravity always wins.
    And it wears him out, it wears him out
    It wears him out, it wears him out.

    She looks like the real thing
    She tastes like the real thing
    My fake plastic love.
    But I cant help the feeling
    I could blow through the ceiling
    If I just turn and run
    And it wears me out, it wears me out
    It wears me out, it wears me out.

    And if I could be who you wanted
    If I could be who you wanted,
    All the time, all the time, ohhh... ohh...
    "...The moral man is a lower species than the immoral, a weaker species; indeed - he is a type in regard to morality, but not a type in himself; a copy...the measure of his value lies outside him. ... I assess the power of a will by how much resistance, pain, torture it endures and knows how to turn to its advantage; I do not account the evil and painful character of existence a reproach to it, but hope rather that it will one day be more evil and painful than hitherto..." (Nietzsche)

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    Beethoven - Moonlight Sonata

    "...The moral man is a lower species than the immoral, a weaker species; indeed - he is a type in regard to morality, but not a type in himself; a copy...the measure of his value lies outside him. ... I assess the power of a will by how much resistance, pain, torture it endures and knows how to turn to its advantage; I do not account the evil and painful character of existence a reproach to it, but hope rather that it will one day be more evil and painful than hitherto..." (Nietzsche)

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    Type O Negative - Everthing Dies


    Well I loved my aunt
    But she died
    And my uncle Lou
    Then he died

    I'm searching for something which can't be found
    But I'm hoping
    I still dream of dad
    Though he died

    Everything dies
    Everything dies

    My ma's so sick she might die
    Though my girl's quite fit she will die

    Still looking for someone who was around
    Barely coping
    Now I hate myself
    Wish I'd die

    Everything dies
    Everything dies
    Everything dies
    Everything

    (No why)
    Oh god I miss you
    (No why)
    Oh god I miss you
    I really miss you

    (no no no no)

    Everything dies
    Everything dies
    Everything dies
    Everything
    "...The moral man is a lower species than the immoral, a weaker species; indeed - he is a type in regard to morality, but not a type in himself; a copy...the measure of his value lies outside him. ... I assess the power of a will by how much resistance, pain, torture it endures and knows how to turn to its advantage; I do not account the evil and painful character of existence a reproach to it, but hope rather that it will one day be more evil and painful than hitherto..." (Nietzsche)

  7. #17
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    The Highwayman

    Ignore the video.

    Alfred Noyes (1880-1958)
    The Highwayman

    PART ONE

    I

    THE wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
    The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
    The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
    And the highwayman came riding—
    Riding—riding—
    The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.

    II

    He'd a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,
    A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin;
    They fitted with never a wrinkle: his boots were up to the thigh!
    And he rode with a jewelled twinkle,
    His pistol butts a-twinkle,
    His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.

    III

    Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard,
    And he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred;
    He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
    But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
    Bess, the landlord's daughter,
    Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

    IV

    And dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
    Where Tim the ostler listened; his face was white and peaked;
    His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,
    But he loved the landlord's daughter,
    The landlord's red-lipped daughter,
    Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say—

    V

    "One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize to-night,
    But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;
    Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
    Then look for me by moonlight,
    Watch for me by moonlight,
    I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way."

    VI

    He rose upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand,
    But she loosened her hair i' the casement! His face burnt like a brand
    As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;
    And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,
    (Oh, sweet, black waves in the moonlight!)
    Then he tugged at his rein in the moonliglt, and galloped away to the West.



    PART TWO

    I

    He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon;
    And out o' the tawny sunset, before the rise o' the moon,
    When the road was a gypsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor,
    A red-coat troop came marching—
    Marching—marching—
    King George's men came matching, up to the old inn-door.

    II

    They said no word to the landlord, they drank his ale instead,
    But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed;
    Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side!
    There was death at every window;
    And hell at one dark window;
    For Bess could see, through her casement, the road that he would ride.

    III

    They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest;
    They had bound a musket beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast!
    "Now, keep good watch!" and they kissed her.
    She heard the dead man say—
    Look for me by moonlight;
    Watch for me by moonlight;
    I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way!

    IV

    She twisted her hands behind her; but all the knots held good!
    She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood!
    They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like years,
    Till, now, on the stroke of midnight,
    Cold, on the stroke of midnight,
    The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!

    V

    The tip of one finger touched it; she strove no more for the rest!
    Up, she stood up to attention, with the barrel beneath her breast,
    She would not risk their hearing; she would not strive again;
    For the road lay bare in the moonlight;
    Blank and bare in the moonlight;
    And the blood of her veins in the moonlight throbbed to her love's refrain .

    VI

    Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hoofs ringing clear;
    Tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot, in the distance? Were they deaf that they did not hear?
    Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
    The highwayman came riding,
    Riding, riding!
    The red-coats looked to their priming! She stood up, straight and still!

    VII

    Tlot-tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot-tlot, in the echoing night!
    Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!
    Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath,
    Then her finger moved in the moonlight,
    Her musket shattered the moonlight,
    Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him—with her death.

    VIII

    He turned; he spurred to the West; he did not know who stood
    Bowed, with her head o'er the musket, drenched with her own red blood!
    Not till the dawn he heard it, his face grew grey to hear
    How Bess, the landlord's daughter,
    The landlord's black-eyed daughter,
    Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.

    IX

    Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,
    With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!
    Blood-red were his spurs i' the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat,
    When they shot him down on the highway,
    Down like a dog on the highway,
    And he lay in his blood on the highway, with the bunch of lace at his throat.

    * * * * * *

    X

    And still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
    When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
    When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
    A highwayman comes riding—
    Riding—riding—
    A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.

    XI

    Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard;
    He taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred;
    He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
    But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
    Bess, the landlord's daughter,
    Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

  8. #18
    Senior Member Lichtblick's Avatar
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    Mithotyn - Old rover

    http://youtube.com/watch?v=gCaesyxPrWA


    I'm an old rover tired of this world
    let me follow the whirlpool of life
    into the world of happiness
    that lies on the other side of death.

    Grant me my deepest wish
    that I patiently yearn for.
    To wander the vales of solitude
    and to ride the sky on invisible wings.

    I will keep the spying hawk company
    and bleed with the dove in its claws.
    I will hunt with the wolfpack
    and share pain with the deer in their jaws.

    A tired and travelled old man I am,
    my mind is rich but my health is poor.
    Let me begin my final trip,
    my soul will fly free forever more.

    A tired and travelled old man I am,
    my mind is rich but my health is poor.
    Let me begin my final trip,
    my soul will fly free forever more.

    I'm an old rover tired of this world
    let me follow the whirlpool of life
    into the world of happiness
    that lies on the other side of death.

    For many decades I've walked this world
    now it's time to pass it on
    to the younger generations,
    as I leave with great expectations.

    A tired and travelled old man I am,
    my mind is rich but my health is poor.
    Let me begin my final trip,
    my soul will fly free forever more.

    A tired and travelled old man I am,
    my mind is rich but my health is poor.
    Let me begin my final trip,
    my soul will fly free forever more.



    PS: I'm sorry, my Youtube-link wasn't accepted for which reason ever.
    "All men dream: but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dream with open eyes to make it possible."

    - T. E. Lawrence

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    Sleipnir- Mein beste kamerad



    Did these wonderful German men die for nothing?!I'd like to show this to every f####### liberal German government official. I hope that We will always remember and be proud of them.

  10. #20
    Senior Member Lichtblick's Avatar
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    Ostara - Operation Valkyrie

    As Siegfried sinks in the ashen storm
    Of Odin's screaming Muse of Death,
    And Rhinegold bleeds like molten lead
    In the grey descent of Orpheus,
    To reap the womb and sow the grave
    Of Europe's tragic Nemesis,
    To reap the ruins and sow the graves
    Of Europe's blackened Holiness,
    To reap the womb and sow the grain
    Of Europe's Holy Name,
    Beneath the soil of the nations
    In the tepid sea of global time,
    I recall the sundered lands
    The Arctic throne of love and pride,
    To reap the wounds
    And sow the graves
    Of Europe's tragic Nemesis...
    A white rose crowned
    With runic thorns
    For the murdered sons of God,
    The white sun crowned
    With golden thorns
    For the martyred Sons of God


    Song can be found at their MySpace site.

    'Nuff "Stauffenberg-wan*ing" for today, how those funny Thiazi guys are used to call it.
    "All men dream: but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dream with open eyes to make it possible."

    - T. E. Lawrence

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