Представляем точный текст композиции "Julius Seizure (Act III, Scene Ii, Verse 73-118)" и глубже погружаем в смыслы творчества артиста TISM . Эта интерпретация слов песни помогает лучше понять смысл заложенный в композицию. Лирика «Julius Seizure (Act III, Scene Ii, Verse 73-118)» — это не просто строчки, а история, которую TISM передаёт через ритм и интонации. Изучайте переводы, оригинальные версии и толкования, чтобы раскрыть все грани этого трека.
TISM - "Julius Seizure (Act III, Scene Ii, Verse 73-118)"
Lyrics to Julius Seizure (Act III, Scene Ii, Verse 73-118) : Second Plebeian: Peace! Let us hear what Anthony can say. Anthony: You gentle Romans- All: Peace, ho! Let us hear him. Anthony: I come to praise, not to bury, the shoddy and the rooted - To lament for the passing of those men, Safari suited, Whod flatten you with mindless glee when they got really newted. Behind the bottleshop youd see the roughest justice done: Yeah, it was assault and battery - but with a sense of fun, And a drink together after, when the ambulance had come. Who would have thought youd ever miss the barmaids brutal snarl And guys looking at you strange while she says, "Whats yours, darl'" "Wanna go'" is all you recall, before the blow and grand mal. "You gotta fucking mouth on ya," those moustached yobs would say Back when being literate was something to hide away And being mediocre meant you played in the V.F.A. But now everyone is talking, and its oh so tres witty: All those fucking D.Js and their flashy repartee - Its always breakfast down in Hell, and radio compulsory. From McGuiness to McGuire to Douglas fucking Aiton Theres a whole new type of person thats takin over this damn nation: And Im not talkin some racist crap about Asian immigration - If youre a yobbo now, youre rooted; no one says, "Ill ave ya, pal" - Listen to Adrian Martin, Jon Casimir, et al: Excellence is demanded, or the critics give you hell. Everyones got a fucking voice - theres personae right and left: They must learn this stuff in school: I mean, what fucking next' Even the E.G cadets crap on, then move to the London desk. Who needs another columnist to point out that the thing Bout living in the suburbs is that it aint like Berlin' - Just in case all of you in Melton were ever wondering. I tell you what can get fucked, and thats fucking them for starters: If theres one thing we just dont need, its another mouthy smartarse Slagging off the guys who wear footy shorts and zappatas. You know who weve swapped them for' People who say "rad" And blokes who go round reading books on being a modern dad - Why, everythings so cool these days, I cant even understand Telstra ads. Excellence surrounds us like a fucking voodoo curse: Theres Helen Garners sisters book; theres all of modern verse; Theres worlds best practice, and business men talking terse On mobile phones on a mobile net that reaches round the earth; Everything is excellent: nowadays, theres nothing worse Than saying "I dont give a shit": youd be in a fucking hearse Driven by some consultant git whos analyzed your system And wants to fully integrate you into modern wisdom: Hes gonna take you by the balls and flush you down the cistern. You know what killed the Anzacs' It werent the fucking Turks, It was the Australians coming after them talking up the perks Of fucking multi-skilling and how the Internet fucking works. So give me back the good old days, though I know they really stank, When everyone could seem to tell when you were talking wank, And we didnt all have to go around pretending to be Yanks. Give us back those great ideas that made this nation free, Like the end of season footy trip, and inefficiency, And if they arent part of freedom - well, who gives a fuck' Not me. Why find voice now at this stage, when silence was just fine' Why learn to talk in coffee shops' Its a fucking wank, for mine. Coathanger one of these effete guys, next thing you know hes cryin. The one thing good bout dumbing down is youre not so fucking smart; I thought Australia was the country that had a silent heart - Its time we just shutfuckingup. I know what. Ill start. [ Julius Seizure (Act III, Scene Ii, Verse 73-118) Lyrics ]
Содержание трека помогает не только запомнить любимые строки, но и ощутить связь с TISM. Возможно, вы заметите, как лирика «Julius Seizure (Act III, Scene Ii, Verse 73-118)» перекликается с вашим опытом, или найдёте ответы на давние вопросы. Эта страница создана для ценителей музыки: здесь вы сохраните текст для личного использования, поделитесь им с друзьями или используете в творчестве. Погружайтесь в мир слов композиции «Julius Seizure (Act III, Scene Ii, Verse 73-118)» — каждая строчка здесь обретает новый смысл.