Текст песни Love Me a Good Microcosm (Weatherbox) с переводом

I’ll be the bright, white light at the end of the road

Letting everybody know that they are almost back home

I’ll be the bright, white light at the end of the road

Letting everybody know that they are almost back home

I’ll be the bright, white light at the end of the road

Letting everybody know that they are almost back home

I’ll be the bright, white light at the end of the road

Letting everybody know that it is time to go home

Oh yeah, it’s time to go home…

Oh, I wonder what it would be like to believe in the Afterlife

I’d probably smile every time I sang

I’d probably gun around town, shouting some obscure ancient man’s name

Oh, I don’t believe in the Afterlife

I believe there’s a thing called a gun and there are things called knives

I believe they can destroy everything that you are inside

I believe nothing escapes once they decide

I know it’s not easy being green

Orbiting the biggest star in the galaxy, me

You’re just a moon, you shine through, but you reflect me too

You’re just a moon. When you die, two more will be born to project through

But when my supernova hits, maybe you will escape it

Yeah, when I supernova split, maybe you will escape it

Yeah, when I supernova split, maybe you will escape it

And you can tell the tale of the flame, who up and changed his name

You can tell them how super I became

Yeah, you can tell them what it sounded like when I fried the final brain

Cause you can glorify the Old Pages and be responsible for the New Cages

Or you can say «to hell with me» and you can get creative…

So, yeah, 666, you can call me a Beast

But dial 666, when you decide it’s time to come back and talk to me

I’ll be waiting in the clouds

I’ve been shaping them into our new house

And when I hear the doorbell, I’ll run and cover up my sulfur smell

Untangle my hair, hood my horns to greet you

Don’t look up at them, look at what’s underneath you:

We’re in the clouds

We’re in the clouds

We’re in the clouds, right above Jerusalem

Don’t mind the flies. Baby, you’ll get used to them

We’re in the clouds, right above Jerusalem

Don’t mind the flies. Baby, you’ll get used to them

I’ll be the bright white light at the end of the road

Letting everybody know that they are almost back home

I’ll be the bright white light at the end of the show

Letting everybody know that it is time to go home

Oh yeah, it’s time to go home

Oh that it’s time to go home

Oh yeah, it’s time to go home…

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