slika - art:  William Blake: The Ancient of Days

Easy come, easy go, will you let me go?
Bismillah! N
o, we will not let you go
(Let him go!) B
ismillah! No, we will not let you go
(Let him g
o!) We will not let you go
Let m
e go! (Will not let you go)
Let m
e go! (Will not let you go) Let me go! Ah
, no, no, no, no, no, no
(Oh, Mama mia, Mama mia) Mama mia, let me go!
Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me, for me, for me

So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye?
So you think you can love me and leave me to die?
Oh, baby, can't do this to me, baby
Just gotta get out, just gotta get right outta here

Nothing really matters, anyone can see
Nothing really matters
Nothing really matters to me
Any way the wind blows

                                                                               Is this the real life?
                                                                                   Is this just fantasy?
                                                                                       Caught in a landslide
                                                                                       No escape from reality
                                                   Open your eyes, look up to the skies and see
                                                           I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy
                                     Because I'm easy come, easy go, little high, little low
                           Any way the wind blows doesn't really matter to me, to me

                                                               Mama, just killed a man
           Put a gun against his head, pulled my trigger, now he's dead
                                                           Mama, life had just begun
                                     But now I've gone and thrown it all away
                                     Mama, ooh, didn't mean to make you cry
                                           If I'm not back again this time tomorrow
                                     Carry on, carry on as if nothing really matters

                                                                   Too late, my time has come
                         Sends shivers down my spine, body's aching all the time
                                                           Goodbye, ev'rybody, I've got to go
                                               Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth
                                                               Mama, ooh, I don't want to die
                                       I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all

                                                         I see a little silhouetto of a man
                   (Scaramouche, Scaramouche) Will you do the Fandango?
                               Thunderbolt and lightning, very, very fright'ning me
                                                           (Galileo) Galileo (Galileo) Galileo
                                                                             Galileo, figaro (Magnifico)
                                                                   I'm just a poor boy, nobody loves me
                                                                     (He's just a poor boy from a poor family)
                                                                         Spare him his life from this monstrosity



©   Copyright: graphic arts; animation & design by Carmen Ezgeta


     slika - art:    William Blake:        The Ancient of Days    

                   (1757 - 1827)                           (1794)        
poet, artist, engraver                    



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