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Okkervil River - Текст песни War Criminal Rises And Speaks
The heart wants to feel.
 The heart wants to hold.
 The heart takes past Subway,
 past Stop and Shop, past Beal's,
 and calls it "coming home."
 The heart wants a trail
 away from "alone,"
 so the heart turns a sale
 into a well-worn milestone
 towards hard-won soft furniture,
 fought-for fast food,
 defended end table that
 holds paperbacks and back U.S. News.
 The mind turns an itch
 into a bruise,
 and the hands start to twitch
 when they're feeling ill-used. 
 But you're almost back now,
 you can see by the signs;
 from the bank you tell the temperature
 and then the time,
 and the billboard reads some headlines.
 The head wants to turn,
 to avert both its eyes,
 but the mind wants to learn
 of some truth that might be
 inside reported crimes. 
 So they found a lieutenant
 who killed a village of kids.
 After finishing off the wives,
 he wiped off his knife
 and that's what he did.
 And they're not claiming that
 there's any excusing it;
 that was thirty years back,
 and they just get paid for the facts
 the way they got them in. 
 Okkervil River - War Criminal Rises And Speaks - http://ru.motolyrics.com/okkervil-river/war-criminal-rises-and-speaks-lyrics.html
 Now he's rising and not denying.
 His hands are shaking, but he's not crying.
 And he's saying "How did I climb
 out of a life so boring into that moment?
 Please stop ignoring the heart inside,
 oh you readers at home!
 While you gasp at my bloody crimes,
 please take the time
 to make your heart my home:
 where I'm forgiven by time,
 where I'm cushioned by hope,
 where I'm numbed by long drives,
 where I'm talked off or doped.
 Does the heart wants to atone?
 Oh, I believe that it's so,
 because if I could climb back through time,
 I'd restore their lives and then give back my own:
 tens of times now its size
 on a far distant road
 in a far distant time
 where every night I'm still crying,
 entirely alone." 
 But the news today always fades away as you drive by,
 until at dinnertime when you look into her eyes,
 lit by evening sun - that, as usual, comes
 from above that straight, unbroken line,
 the horizon
 - its rising is a given,
 just like your living. 
 Your heart's warm and kind.
 Your mind is your own.
 So our blood-spattered criminal
 is inscrutable;
 don't worry, he won't
 rise up behind your eyes
 and take wild control.
 Say he's not of this time,
 he fell out of the hole.









