Текст песни: Sylvian David - The Devil`s Own
The night is dark and cold
The strong winds and the rain
Crack the branches upon my window
The devils beats his drum
Casting out his spell
Dragging all his own down in hell
The ticking of the clock
Inexorably goes on
The howling of the stray souls of heaven
The treasures of the cove
Where the traders stored their gold
Echo voices still dead to the world
Underneath the vine
Shaded by the leaves
I still hold you close to me
Beneath the open stars
Beneath the pillows and the sheets
I still hold you dear to me
The ticking of the clock
Surely sunrise won`t be long
When darkness hides inside it`s own shadow
The devil beats his drum
Casting out his name
Dragging all his own down into shame
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The night is dark and cold
The strong winds and the rain
Crack the branches upon my window
The devils beats his drum
Casting out his spell
Dragging all his own down in hell
The ticking of the clock
Inexorably goes on
The howling of the stray souls of heaven
The treasures of the cove
Where the traders stored their gold
Echo voices still dead to the world
Underneath the vine
Shaded by the leaves
I still hold you close to me
Beneath the open stars
Beneath the pillows and the sheets
I still hold you dear to me
The ticking of the clock
Surely sunrise won`t be long
When darkness hides inside it`s own shadow
The devil beats his drum
Casting out his name
Dragging all his own down into shame
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Еще тексты песен: Sylvian David
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Before The Bullfight
Brilliant Trees
Forbidden Colours (1987 Version)
Gone To Earth
Laughter And Forgetting
Let The Happiness In
Maria
Mother And Child
Nostalgia
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River Man
September
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Taking The Veil
The Boy With The Gun
The Devil`s Own
The Ink In The Well
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Wave
Weathered Wall
When Poets Dreamed Of Angels
Before The Bullfight
Brilliant Trees
Forbidden Colours (1987 Version)
Gone To Earth
Laughter And Forgetting
Let The Happiness In
Maria
Mother And Child
Nostalgia
Orpheus
Pulling Punches
Red Guitar
River Man
September
Silver Moon
Taking The Veil
The Boy With The Gun
The Devil`s Own
The Ink In The Well
Waterfront
Wave
Weathered Wall
When Poets Dreamed Of Angels