Song parody of
The Curse Of The Great
by Cryptopsy
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Das ist der Fluch der Mächtigen
Das ist der Fluch der Mächtigen
Das ist der Fluch der Mächtigen
Das ist der Fluch der Mächtigen
Let us settle with swords
The affairs of men
Violence is the answer
"Sis im blut"
Eisblut!
In this soiled world
We see aspects of damnation
On the faces of the killed
Instead of gratitude
This psychology may seem
A bit baroque at first
But what a boon it be
When the demons come
With time and telling, memory dulls
Of rotting boys with empty skulls
All sons of Ares, sons of Mars
Whose flesh be worms, whose souls be stars
Myriads of combat corpses
The eggshell skeletons of men
Debris over which weep
Their stricken families
Parents, wives and children
Their heroic sufferings
Do strengthen hearts
And moisten eyes
Know ye not (have ye forgotten?)
Your place in the earth?
We know (as we've always known)
(That) there can be no place
For such as ye
Upon our blameless, benighted earth
The breath of the dead
Fills the stagnant breeze
Now, the world is perfect
Those left behind still weep
Should the question of terror arise
We'll draw our hate down from the skies
We live beneath a carcass moon
That makes a horror of all days
For on this battlefield
Even the wicked get worse than they deserve
But then it is the curse of the great
To have to walk over corpses
Es war schon immer der Fluch der mächtigen
Über Leichen schreiten zu müssen
With our deeds of carnage
We hail bloodshed our immortal king
Das ist der Fluch der Mächtigen
Das ist der Fluch der Mächtigen
Das ist der Fluch der Mächtigen
Das ist der Fluch der Mächtigen
Let us settle with swords
The affairs of men
Violence is the answer
"Sis im blut"
Eisblut!
In this soiled world
We see aspects of damnation
On the faces of the killed
Instead of gratitude
This psychology may seem
A bit baroque at first
But what a boon it be
When the demons come
With time and telling, memory dulls
Of rotting boys with empty skulls
All sons of Ares, sons of Mars
Whose flesh be worms, whose souls be stars
Myriads of combat corpses
The eggshell skeletons of men
Debris over which weep
Their stricken families
Parents, wives and children
Their heroic sufferings
Do strengthen hearts
And moisten eyes
Know ye not (have ye forgotten?)
Your place in the earth?
We know (as we've always known)
(That) there can be no place
For such as ye
Upon our blameless, benighted earth
The breath of the dead
Fills the stagnant breeze
Now, the world is perfect
Those left behind still weep
Should the question of terror arise
We'll draw our hate down from the skies
We live beneath a carcass moon
That makes a horror of all days
For on this battlefield
Even the wicked get worse than they deserve
But then it is the curse of the great
To have to walk over corpses
Es war schon immer der Fluch der mächtigen
Über Leichen schreiten zu müssen
With our deeds of carnage
We hail bloodshed our immortal king
