BETHZAIDA LYRICS
War (1999 SPLIT)

1. Under Azure Skies
2. Last Day Of Sodoma
3. Expulsion
4. Epistel Nr. 30: Drick Ur Ditt Glas



1. Under Azure Skies



2. Last Day Of Sodoma

I offered you my world to have, my kingdom to explore
I gave you warmth and shelter against the raging snow
My dark love was rejected, too bad you could not see
That love lasts eternally and we were ment to be

Your tears cannot move me, I am delighted by your cries
As blood runs down from your chest, I am smiling as you die
Though my eyes are red and wet, this is my greatest thrill
If I cannot have you then no-one ever will

I welcome you home one last time
To greet you goodbye with a knife in my hand

Steel so sharp against tender flesh
River of blood flowing down her chest
Metal blade carving up her skin
As one life ends a new one begins

Anger of Cain raging in my head
Again and again, she is soon to be dead
Tears in her eyes, I hope she can hear
my "goodbye, you have nothing to fear"


3. Expulsion

Once so mighty I was aeons ago
I would make thunder roar and lava flow
Times do pass, moments do wither and fade
Man do forget the memories of my glorious days

Forever to live in purgatory's darkness
Blend in with the low-life among this putrid mess
Some praise my name, they do not know
I changed it millennia ago

Pestillence will spread across Earth
Death to the first set to birth
Snow-covered the ground shall remain
As yet another life I do reclaim

Fire from the ground to the sky
No place to hide, nowhere in safety to lie
Expelled again, myself to blame
Now I am never to return from whence I came


4. Epistel Nr. 30: Drick Ur Ditt Glas

[Music and Lyrics by Carl Michael Bellman (1740-1795)]

Drick ur ditt glas, se doden pa dig vantar,
slipar sitt svard och vid din troskel star.
Bliv ej forskrackt, han blott pa gravdorn glantar,
slar den igen, kanske an pa ett ar.
Movitz, din lungsot den drar dig i graven.
Knapp nu oktaven:
stam dina strangar, sjung om livets var!

Himmel, du dor, din hosta mig forskracker;
tomhet och klang, inalvorna ge ljud;
tungan ar vit, det radda hjartat klacker,
mjuk som en svamp ar sena, marg och hud.
Andas! - Fy tusan, vad dunst ur din aska!
Lan mig din flaska!
Movitz, gutar! Skal! Sjung om vinets gud!

Na sa gutar! Dig Bacchus avsked bjuder,
fran Frojas tron du sista vinken far.
Omt till dess lov det lilla blodet sjuder,
som nu med vald ur dina adror gar.
Sjung, las och glom, tank, begrat och begrunda!
Skull' du astunda
annu en falsup? Vill du do? - Nej, gutar!








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