CORRIGER LES PAROLES
Paroles : Isabella James (9th Symphony) or; Bookends (Part 2)
Part One
Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there, I do not sleep
I am a thousand winds that blow
I am the diamond glint on snow
I am the sunlight on ripened grain
I am the gentle autumn rain
When you wake in the morning hush
I am the swift, uplifting rush
Of the birds in circled flight
I am the soft stars that shine at night
Do not stand at my grave and cry
I am not there, I did not die!
Part Two
I have deconstructed myself to the point that I am no longer human
I am but I a series of metaphors vaguely linked by the idea of femininity
I am a disgusting performative version of what I wish I was
I am just an idea in your head
This is my dying drеam
This is, this is my dying dream
And I am lying there on my dеathbed
This is what I'll be thinking
I mean, like, I will be soon enough anyway
Statistically speaking, in, like, two or three months I’ll be homeless or I'll have killed myself
I'll be dead, but it’s OK
Part Three
What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Under my head till morning; but the rain
Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh
Upon the glass and listen for reply
And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain
For unremembered lads that not again
Will turn to me at midnight with a cry
Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one
Yet knows its boughs more silent than before
I cannot say what loves have come and gone
I only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more
Part Four
I used to feel comfortable when I slept
But I don't anymore
I keep on having nightmares
As cheesy as that sounds
I'm always in a forest
And I'm being held in the arms of a woman, a ginger woman
I don't know why but I always start running
The trees become a maze they tangle themselves together and block my path
Suddenly the trees are bricks and suddenly the bricks are mirrors
I have no choice but to look at myself
Be surrounded by myself
And then I wake up
I wake up into a body I hate
Feeling things I don't want to feel
But not emotional things physical things
Sometimes I don't know if I can feel emotions anymore
But when I do they're so overwhelming
Dysphoria, unrequited love, sadness
It’s those three on a sequel
I don’t even have the nerves to kill myself
I can see her underneath myself
I can see her crawling in my skin
I just want a take a knife and carve her out
The secret girl within
I detest myself with a writhing angst
The kind of motion in a mass grave
I hate the way I consumed this role
The role of a war not of play
I feed myself on lies you tell me
Cause you don't want the truth
I didn’t f**king ask to be born
Into a say I couldn't sooth
Yet here I am alone again
Here I am dependent again
Here I am a man again
A woman never to you?
Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there, I do not sleep
I am a thousand winds that blow
I am the diamond glint on snow
I am the sunlight on ripened grain
I am the gentle autumn rain
When you wake in the morning hush
I am the swift, uplifting rush
Of the birds in circled flight
I am the soft stars that shine at night
Do not stand at my grave and cry
I am not there, I did not die!
Part Two
I have deconstructed myself to the point that I am no longer human
I am but I a series of metaphors vaguely linked by the idea of femininity
I am a disgusting performative version of what I wish I was
I am just an idea in your head
This is my dying drеam
This is, this is my dying dream
And I am lying there on my dеathbed
This is what I'll be thinking
I mean, like, I will be soon enough anyway
Statistically speaking, in, like, two or three months I’ll be homeless or I'll have killed myself
I'll be dead, but it’s OK
Part Three
What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Under my head till morning; but the rain
Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh
Upon the glass and listen for reply
And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain
For unremembered lads that not again
Will turn to me at midnight with a cry
Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one
Yet knows its boughs more silent than before
I cannot say what loves have come and gone
I only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more
Part Four
I used to feel comfortable when I slept
But I don't anymore
I keep on having nightmares
As cheesy as that sounds
I'm always in a forest
And I'm being held in the arms of a woman, a ginger woman
I don't know why but I always start running
The trees become a maze they tangle themselves together and block my path
Suddenly the trees are bricks and suddenly the bricks are mirrors
I have no choice but to look at myself
Be surrounded by myself
And then I wake up
I wake up into a body I hate
Feeling things I don't want to feel
But not emotional things physical things
Sometimes I don't know if I can feel emotions anymore
But when I do they're so overwhelming
Dysphoria, unrequited love, sadness
It’s those three on a sequel
I don’t even have the nerves to kill myself
I can see her underneath myself
I can see her crawling in my skin
I just want a take a knife and carve her out
The secret girl within
I detest myself with a writhing angst
The kind of motion in a mass grave
I hate the way I consumed this role
The role of a war not of play
I feed myself on lies you tell me
Cause you don't want the truth
I didn’t f**king ask to be born
Into a say I couldn't sooth
Yet here I am alone again
Here I am dependent again
Here I am a man again
A woman never to you?
