Текст песни Future Wars (La Dispute) с переводом

«Crows, wipe the blood off the end of your claws,»

Said the vulture

Let’s gather like storms for the war, for the war

Ah, crows, as the night turns its skin into coal

Dark as corpses but cluttered with gold

They will label you thieves, wolves, and whores

But

You are nothing less than angels

You are nothing less than angels

You are nothing less than angels

You are nothing less than angels

To the cast down and covered in black

Ain’t this the bloodiest mess in the world? Said the virgin, a torn little girl

Ah, boy, you went and made a sweet wreck of my soul, and I’ve already forgiven

you

And blood, it was running down

Her dress in streams into her hands where she

Was stitching on the flesh he’d left

In sections on the carpet near a bed that

Never slept while you were sleeping

In her clothes that he had laid with on

The floor with all his fingers crossed

In hoping that that distance

Wouldn’t grow

But how it grew

And how it hurt

And how it hallowed every memory he’d

Never felt was threatened by a thing the world

Could conjure up to kill them, oh, but he let it kill them

What a bunch of fools we lovers are

And now she’s smiling, with her self put back together

Just a shadow of the past before the war

All sewn together, like a city sick from storms

And sick of waiting for a god to call the floods out of her home

What a bunch of fools we lovers are

We lovers are

When tempted by the taste of flesh

«My boy, you are nothing more than a thief and a whore

In a suit of the finest of armor,» laughed the vulture

Laughed the vulture

«Pathetic little child, I am embarrassed for you.»

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