Okkervil River - The War Criminal Rises and Speaks скачать видео бесплатно

Okkervil River - The War Criminal Rises and Speaks. I do not owe any rights to this song. I just couldnt find it anywhere in studio version and i think this is one of the best songs ever written so it needs to be shared. By the album!

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The heart wants to feel.

The heart wants to hold.

The heart takes past Subway,

past Stop and Shop,

past Beal's,

and calls it "coming home."

The heart wants a trail

away from "alone,"

so the heart turns a sale

into a well-worn milestone

towards hard-won soft furniture,

fought-for fast food,

defended end table that

holds paperbacks and back U.S. News.

The mind turns an itch

into a bruise,

and the hands start to twitch

when they're feeling ill-used.

And you're almost back now,

you can see by the signs;

from the bank you tell the temperature

and then the time,

and the billboard reads some headlines.

The head wants to turn,

to avert both its eyes,

but the mind wants to learn

of some truth that might be

inside reported crimes.

So they found a lieutenant

who killed a village of kids.

After finishing off the wives,

he wiped off his knife

and that's what he did.

And they're not claiming that

there's any excusing it;

that was thirty years back,

and they just get paid for the facts

the way they got them in.

Now he's rising and not denying.

His hands are shaking, but he's not crying.

And he's saying "How did I climb

out of a life so boring into that moment?

Please stop ignoring the heart inside,

oh you readers at home!

While you gasp at my bloody crimes,

please take the time

to make your heart my home:

where I'm forgiven by time,

where I'm cushioned by hope,

where I'm numbed by long drives,

where I'm talked off or doped.

Does the heart wants to atone?

Oh, I believe that it's so,

because if I could climb back through time,

I'd restore their lives and then give back my own:

tens of times now its size

on a far distant road

in a far distant time

where every night I'm still crying,

entirely alone."

But the news today always fades away as you drive by,

until at dinnertime when you look into her eyes,

lit by evening sun - that, as usual, comes

from above that straight, unbroken line,

the horizon

- its rising

is a given,

just like your living.

Your heart's warm and kind.

Your mind is your own.

Our blood-spattered criminal

is inscrutable;

don't worry, he won't

rise up behind your eyes

and take wild control.

He's not of this time,

he fell out of a hole.