The Great Conversation

Guten abend, hier Beethoven
With these words I've interwoven inspiration from Moonlight
Since you parted much has changed but your melodies remain
Like flamingos in full flight
Please forgive me and be assured I'm only using all your chords
To illustrate that nothing's ever new
And it seems these days there's little left that people have to say
As they pay for emperors new clothes

Verse 2:
But I refuse to take my hat to an era near extinction
Without question or complaint
The dialogue is growing weak, some forgetting how to speak,
Or stand up and show restraint
They're all sick with common sense
Riddled thick with complacence
Where there's nothing left to push against
So, dear Ludwig, that is why I choose the great gig in the sky
Where there are greater minds beyond mine

Chorus:
And I'll meet they them all
Yes, I'll meet you all
In the great conversation
Without time, without reason I'll meet you all
Yes, I'll meet you all In the great conversation
Where time has no place, no, no

Verse 3:
Is it me, or has humanity turned slave to the convenience
Of this, so called, 'Techno Age'?
I speak to you, Ludwig, because you represent a time so opposite,
When music filled the page
For example: this song here may be too much to please the ear
Because it's wordy and demonstrative,
But my might is not to entertain the plight of human thought,
Though some may think I ought to

Chorus

Bridge:
Dare I say, (as a landscape fades to grey) that a sword of Damocles hangs heavy overhead
Of all our voices great.

Chorus

Похожие новости.

You’re Gonna Miss This

She was staring out that window, of that SUV Complaining, saying I can't wait to turn 18 She said I'll make my own money, and I'll make my own rules Mamma put the

Dirt Road Anthem

Yeah, I'm chillin' on a dirt road, Laid back swervin' like I'm George Jones. Smoke rollin' out the window, An' ice cold beer sittin' in the console. Memory lane up in the headlights, It's got

Hail The Sunny Days (live)

Share some thoughts for all the pretty people Bless the gods and all the wealthy fellas See how they run, see how they try To give their best for all our beauty They wear

Waiting For The Bus

My name is Gary Tyler, Louisiana-born Shadow of the poplar tree on fields all ripe with corn Sixteen years I counted on the rising of the sun I'm just waiting for the bus

Просто Весна

Муз: О.Молчанов Сл. А.Славоросов День и струна печальная Поёт с утра о любви и о надежде. Тень набежит случайная, Как облака проплывут и всё как прежде. Сон, мне он в память врезался,