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EL ESPÍRITU DEL VINO

Versión original

Carátula: 12908 bytes Contraportada: 4925 bytes
Company:EMI-OdeonDate:1993
Produced by:Phil ManzaneraTime:71:57Type:L.P.
Tracks:

  1. Nuestros Nombres Ver partitura
  2. Tesoro
  3. Los Placeres de la Pobreza Ver partitura
  4. La Herida Ver tabs Música MIDI
  5. La Sirena Varada Ver tabs
  6. La Apariencia No Es Sincera
  7. Z
  8. Culpable Ver tabs
  9. El Camino Del Exceso
  10. Flor De Loto
  11. El Refugio Interior
  12. Sangre Hirviendo
  13. Tumbas De Sal
  14. Bendecida 2
  15. Bendecida
  16. La Alacena

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[Main Page] [Héroes del Silencio]
Transcribed by Sascha M. Busch (http://pbhrzx.uni-paderborn.de:8080/~e91794/)
the soul of wine (1993) -
  1. our names

    how strangely desire presses
    how distant our agreement shows up today
    so many miles away, it seems so hard to reach
    how I used to love that glance.
    even slitting my reverie from the top to bottom
    I always have my eyes wide open.
    I'm silently proposing a toast to hold out.
    and we don't even know our names,
    we don't ignore our excesses;
    but your mere presence makes me sick
    and empty.
    with a cry of hope
    I say good-bye to you.
    and every day asks its night
    what it would do in the former disguise,
    nodding without having understood
    that those hands were besieging me.
    tell me: would you like to a winged house?
    dawning, some hazy winks.
    turning over fearing to look back,
    and we don't even know our names,
    we don't ignore our excesses;
    but your mere presence makes me sick
    and empty.
    with a cry of hope
    I say good-bye to you
    when I realise
    how one can be emptied.
    and with a cry of hope
    I say good-bye to you.
    and we don't even know our names,
    we don't ignore our excesses;
    but your mere presence makes me sick
    and empty.
    when I realise
    how one can be emptied.
    and with a cry of hope
    I say good-bye to you.

  2. treasure

    height turns me smaller
    and I can't help it.
    my thoughts get stuck,
    piled up
    in my treasure, and there they wait for me
    yesterday I coloured my dreams in blood,
    and there is nothing sacred I can enjoy
    any more.
    I will get that smile
    If I can pay for it
    it will be one of my favourite ones.
    gathered
    in my treasure, and there they wait for me
    yesterday I coloured my dreams in blood,
    and there is nothing sacred I can enjoy
    any more.
    yesterday I coloured my dreams in blood,
    and there is nothing sacred I can enjoy
    any more.

  3. the pleasures of poverty

    ancient nations of holy lineage
    and their forgotten truths,
    the diamond card against the palm leaf.
    I trembled through the radio,
    and they pay for the grass supply
    with their own curiosity.
    masturbation of questions just to hear
    a silver whisper,
    we crawl unconsciously along the desert
    towards the caverns,
    blinded by the voice of inexperience,
    the pilgrim grips will guide me.
    the town was already dead before it was born.
    a runaway thoroughbred.
    how I hate lukewarm people
    when they say there's no alternative,
    we crawl unconsciously along the desert
    towards the caverns,
    blinded by the voice of inexperience,
    the pilgrim grips will guide me.
    there's no other heaven on earth
    that dares to face assents and denials,
    leaving punishments and chains
    on the opposite side of reason.
    and the pleasures of poverty have beaten
    my deceived revolution.
    and the pleasures of poverty have beaten
    my deceived revolution.
    we crawl unconsciously along the desert
    towards the caverns,
    blinded by the voice of inexperience,
    the pilgrim grips will guide me.
    there's no other heaven on earth
    that dares to face assents and denials,
    leaving punishments and chains
    on the opposite side of reason.

  4. the wound

    it's always the same performance, the same spectator
    the same theatre, where he used to play so often.
    losing my mind in such a real game could
    have beaten a mistake
    will you please heal my wound?
    what's left between two friends
    when after all
    they seem to be lost
    and they prefer some others?
    what do stupid hands give
    ignoring what has been given,
    if they were shaken long ago
    and now they are deceived?
    what made them move away
    from their 'restless shore'
    thinking of those days
    for hardly a moment?
    it's always the same performance, the same spectator
    the same theatre, where he used to play so often.
    losing my mind in such a real game could
    have beaten a mistake
    will you please heal my wound?
    I have always preferred a long slow kiss,
    even if I know it's lying,
    even if I know it's false.
    what the hell happens
    when glances don't come across each other?
    the cockfight, bets can be made.
    who has been looking for shelter
    in any other place?
    does real cold
    come with one's age?
    it's always the same performance, the same spectator
    the same theatre, where he used to play so often.
    losing my mind in such a real game could
    have beaten a mistake
    will you please heal my wound?
    it's always the same performance, the same spectator
    the same theatre, where he used to play so often.
    losing my mind in such a real game could
    have beaten a mistake
    will you please heal my wound?

  5. the stranded siren

    I have always got entangled on seaweeds,
    a tangle of them against my fingers
    you close the tangle
    with the annoyance of destiny,
    and the others are the ones who bite
    bloody gums,
    criminal glances,
    at first sight it could be you.
    dropping anchor to port,
    the ring at the top
    and the bottom of your heart,
    bleeding all the time.
    and the beggar is always next to you,
    your fellow traveller.
    when the stars will fade away,
    sooner or later you will come back too.
    sleep a bit longer.
    your eyelids can't bear it any more.
    and then disappointment comes
    when the north wind doesn't seem to forgive
    siren, go back to sea,
    you're stranded on reality.
    going through hallucinations
    when heaven doesn't seem to hear.
    dedicating a dream to you.
    closing my eyes and feeling
    the vast darkness,
    devoted to a gleam,
    like a maze of doubts.
    and you try to get away from your nightmare,
    and fly over your weariness
    and then you're back on earth again.
    our fear to go beyond the limits
    of names, like a stranger,
    shapes the spiral of defeat
    and darkens so many flatteries.
    sun, in the memory fades away...
    and sleep a bit longer.
    your eyelids can't bear it any more.
    then disappointment comes
    when the north wind doesn't seem to forgive
    siren, go back to sea,
    you're stranded on reality.
    going through hallucinations
    when heaven doesn't seem to hear.

  6. appearance is not truthful

    besieged, between your future and my wall.
    wondering at every single sentence.
    you know, you have never been in that song,
    but you gave in so sweetly...
    and I hear you say:
    'give me as many roses as thorns I pricked myself on,
    I can hardly understand your jokes, why are you so cruel?
    give me as many roses as thorns I pricked myself on,
    you blow up so easily, what evil is possessing you?'
    your needless are softly nipping my skin,
    draining little by little all my veins,
    you know, there has never been a worse drug;
    but I didn't listen to you that time either...
    'give me as many roses as thorns I pricked myself on,
    I can hardly understand your jokes, why are you so cruel?
    give me as many roses as thorns I pricked myself on,
    you blow up so easily, what evil is possessing you?'
    you could think the worst,
    that appearance is not truthful, no, it isn't.
    all my sleepless nights,
    are they supposed to be bitter punishment?
    I could lose control
    in a deceitful look, couldn't I?
    I have spent every night expecting,
    do I deserve to have my heart burning that way?
    frightened, now I keep loudly silent before running away.
    it's not easy to remain faithful to conscience.
    you know, no nightmare has ever scared me,
    if I haven't chosen, who has decided for me?
    and I hear you say:
    'give me as many roses as thorns I pricked myself on,
    I can hardly understand your jokes, why are you so cruel?
    give me as many roses as thorns I pricked myself on,
    you blow up so easily, what evil is possessing you?'
    you could think the worst,
    that appearance is not truthful, no, it isn't.
    all my sleepless nights,
    are they supposed to be bitter punishment?
    I could lose control
    in a deceitful look, couldn't I?
    I have spent every night expecting,
    do I deserve to have my heart burning that way?

  7. z

    (instrumental)

  8. guilty

    silent like a shadow
    there are no forbidden experiences
    at the council halls
    where bloodsuckers live,
    and my old wound is still open,
    it is so slow to heal up,
    are you, my nightmare, staying
    close to me at nightfall?
    going beyond what is allowed
    by the streams that run over your body
    you will give up your habits and submissions
    keeping your troubles to yourself.
    will my lustful glands
    find me guilty?
    if I gave in to you
    but I didn't want to stay...
    strange metal ticks
    over gorges and cliffs
    spreading out the most putrid orchre.
    going beyond what is allowed
    by the streams that run over your body
    you will give up your habits and submissions
    keeping your troubles to yourself.
    and stupid words
    have turned me deaf
    and I will deny
    what I learnt in school.
    and stupid words
    have turned me deaf
    and I will deny
    what I learnt in school.
    and my old wound is still open,
    it is so slow to heal up,
    are you, my nightmare, staying
    close to me at nightfall?
    going beyond what is allowed
    by the streams that run over your body
    you will give up your habits and submissions
    keeping your troubles to yourself.

  9. the path of excess

    a tempest of words from one tavern to another,
    ordinary choir, sing your plan for me.
    your blood is splashing you're losing temper.
    if there is no paradise, where will you break down?
    that's true:
    path of excess, source of knowledge.
    poison is always stifled by a dish of contempt.
    as long as there is enough money and determination,
    little by little, you will have some years left,
    if you are ready to face the scene,
    it doesn't belong to William Blake.
    are you ready to gobble up the stars
    and calm your thirst with them?
    I can hardly tune a few melodies for losers.
    heaven has spoilt my last breath.
    all my enemies are left behind
    am I still uncertain about a better future.
    if you are ready to face the scene,
    it doesn't belong to William Blake.
    are you ready to gobble up the stars
    and calm your thirst with them?
    the path of excess... the path of excess...
    the path of excess... say!: the path of excess...
    we are burning the soul of wine in the wrong way
    and it won't be back, no, it won't be back.
    and we are burning the soul of wine in the wrong way
    and it won't be back, no, it won't be back.
    the path of excess... the path of excess...
    the path of excess... say!: the path of excess...
    we are burning the soul of wine in the wrong way
    and it won't be back, no, it won't be back.
    and we are burning the soul of wine in the wrong way
    and it won't be back, no, it won't be back.

  10. lotus bloom

    never has a farewell been so brief,
    I had never thought it definite,
    I had never ever loved anyone so much,
    I had never called a stranger my family,
    I had never believed in my own philosophy,
    I had never had any guru or guide,
    I had never refused any lost cause,
    I will never deny that these are my favourite ones
    this is my lotus bloom and I used to be its shadow
    this is my lotus bloom
    my world won't clear up,
    so much wandering and nothing has been kept,
    nothing at all.
    a flame never burns on and on,
    I have never been able to put up with its heat,
    never, never for more than one day,
    I have never been able to be an invaded soul,
    until I saw in front of me the one I could die for.
    this is my lotus bloom and I used to be its shadow
    this is my lotus bloom
    my world won't clear up,
    so much wandering and nothing has been kept,
    nothing at all.
    will you rectify
    the lines on my hands?
    who will spread out
    the coffee sediment?
    and what did the crystal ball say
    when it started to roll?
    What else could I need?
    have I got anything to lose?
    I can't lose.
    lotus bloom
    lotus bloom
    it's so easy to look for (so hard to find)
    it's so easy to look for (so hard to find)
    lotus bloom
    lotus bloom
    it's so easy to look for (so hard to find)
    it's so easy to look for (so hard to find)
    will you rectify
    the lines in my hands?
    who will spread out
    the coffee sediment?
    and what did the crystal ball say
    when it started to roll?
    What else could I need?
    have I got anything to lose?
    I can't lose.

  11. the spiritual shelter

    (instrumental)
    - thanks Dave Watson -

  12. boiling blood

    heaven is tumbling down,
    it's collapsing over you.
    hide your world away, don't let anybody see it.
    close the doors and wait,
    your time has come,
    and I doubt if anybody could deserve
    such a second.
    does it hurt when I tell the truth?
    look at the emptiness from this corner.
    die alone, nobody will teach you how.
    close the doors and wait,
    your time has come,
    and I doubt if anybody could deserve
    such a second.
    bubbles of boiling blood
    are falling inside you.
    let anyone shout on the wind:
    'you can count on me!'
    'you can count on me!'
    fear the murmur of laughter,
    I can't find what is stuck in your throat
    spit it out now, bloody hell!
    close the doors and wait,
    your time has come,
    and I doubt if anybody could deserve
    such a second.
    bubbles of boiling blood
    are falling inside you.
    deafness has been my nourishment.
    bubbles of boiling blood
    are falling inside you.
    let anyone shout on the wind:
    'you can count on me!'
    'you can count on me!'

  13. graves of salt

    psychoactive beverages do not pump enough
    nor can aggressive dances show your best side,
    who knows whether it's better that way?
    leave the place abandoned to fate and doom,
    leave it!
    if feline claws don't let you sleep at all
    and you don't feel attracted by lavatories,
    who knows whether it's better that way?
    condemn half truths to exile
    condemn them!
    the west is frightened
    "it could be a sort of shaman magic"
    we have already heard such foolish thoughts
    between the golden oceans and graves of salt.
    if you can't believe in written words
    this has been a useless way to guide us.
    who knows whether it's better to give up?
    look at the conditions in which we have been forsaken
    look at them!
    the west is frightened
    "it could be a sort of shaman magic"
    we have already heard such foolish thoughts
    between the golden oceans and graves of salt.
    the west is frightened
    "it could be a sort of shaman magic"
    we have already heard such foolish thoughts
    between the golden oceans and graves of salt.

  14. blessed 2

    during your absence, the walls
    will be covered with sadness,
    and I will imprison my heart
    in the cage of our bones
    and during your absence, the walls
    will be covered with sadness,
    and I will imprison my heart
    in the cage of our bones

  15. blessed

    if the first glance is the one that counts,
    - this is what mothers always teach -
    I will recover my mind,
    towards a common grave
    all of us stabbed by questions.
    bitter is the taste of lazy nights,
    today will be the night of my return.
    my memory is bothering me,
    my senses are disturbing me
    and they are wrong.
    in the waters of certainty,
    we made the promise of Porkara Lakes:
    "and the perfume that comes from sex
    will melt in a new scream."
    I have never trusted in very thin lips,
    I always get away from them like a fugitive.
    and you calm don the swell
    that breaks against my veins,
    you purify the air.
    in the waters of certainty,
    we made the promise of Porkara Lakes:
    "and the perfume that comes from sex
    will melt in a new scream."
    from the hot coals of a constellation,
    to the transient world.
    blessed was the cause of my fortune.
    and from the land lost of my childhood
    to the transient world.
    blessed was the cause of my fortune.
    something they didn't allow me,
    and that now I'm seeking within your bones.
    something from so far away,
    I thought was not my style.
    when you will leave your dream you will
    realise you're dead
    and worms are always hungry.
    the east doesn't believe in sarcasm
    that used to rule us long ago
    I am a tame lion.
    in the waters of certainty,
    we made the promise of Porkara Lakes:
    "and the perfume that comes from sex
    will melt in a new scream."
    from the hot coals of a constellation,
    to the transient world.
    blessed was the cause of my fortune.
    and from the land lost of my childhood
    to the transient world.
    blessed was the cause of my fate.
    something they didn't allow me,
    and that now I'm seeking within your bones.
    something from so far away,
    I thought was not my style.

  16. the cupboard

    cloud that I had to swallow up.
    you're blinded today by your swollen eyelids.
    I would fog the hours
    exhausted and starving.
    pour your neck over the ice,
    let your lips get wet,
    fill your mouth with bitter liquor.
    let your throat burn.
    dice game at the warehouse,
    deep stares are pushing ahead.
    sincerity, the winner's enemy,
    widens the past and the future.
    pour your neck over the ice,
    let your lips get wet,
    fill your mouth with bitter liquor.
    let your throat burn.
    dice game at the warehouse,
    deep stares are pushing ahead.
    sincerity, the winner's enemy,
    widens the past and the future.

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©1997 Rafael González-Ripoll Giménez


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