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[1. From A Dusty Bookshelf]

[2. All That Great Heart Lying Still]

The nightingale is still locked in the cage
The deep breath I took still poisons my lungs
An old oak sheltering me from the blue
Sun bathing on it's dead frozen leaves

A catnap in the ghost town of my heart
She dreams of storytime and the river ghosts
Of mermaids, of Whitman's and the ride
Raving harlequins, gigantic toys

A song of me a song in need
Of a courageous symphony
A verse of me a verse in need
Of a pure-heart singing me to peace

All that great heart lying still and slowly dying
All that great heart lying still on an angel wing

All that great heart lying still
In silent suffering
Smiling like a clown until the show has come to an end
What is left for encore
Is the same old dead boy's song
Sung in silence
All that great heart lying still and slowly dying
All that great heart lying still on an angel wing

A midnight flight into Covington Woods
A princess and a panther by my side
These are territories I live for
I'd still give my everything to love you more

A song of me a song in need
Of a courageous symphony
A verse of me a verse in need
Of a pure-heart singing me to peace

All that great heart lying still and slowly dying
All that great heart lying still on an angel wing

Now all that great heart lying still
In silent suffering
Smiling like a clown until the show has come to an end
What is left for encore
Is the same old dead boy's song
Sung in silence
All that great heart lying still and slowly dying
All that great heart lying still on an angel wing

[3. Piano Black]

A silent symphony
A hollow opus #1, 2, 3

Sometimes the sky is piano black
Piano black over cleansing waters

Resting pipes, verse of bore
Rusting keys without a door

Sometimes the within is piano black
Piano black over cleansing waters

Resting pipes, verse of bore
Rusting keys without a door

Sometimes the within is piano black
Piano black over cleansing waters

All that great heart lying still and slowly dying
All that great heart lying still on an angelwing

All that great heart lying still and slowly dying
All that great heart lying still on an angelwing

[4. Love]

I see a slow, simple youngster by a busy street,
With a begging bowl in his shaking hand.
Trying to smile but hurting infinitely. Nobody notices.
I do, but walk by.

An old man gets naked and kisses a model-doll in his attic
It's half-light and he's in tears.
When he finally comes his eyes are cascading.

I see a beaten dog in a pungent alley. He tries to bite me.
All pride has left his wild drooling eyes.
I wish I had my leg to spare.

A mother visits her son, smiles to him through the bars.
She's never loved him more.

An obese girl enters an elevator with me.
All dressed up fancy, a green butterfly on her neck.
Terribly sweeet perfume deafens me.
She's going to dinner alone.
That makes her even more beautiful.

I see a model's face on a brick wall.
A statue of porcelain perfection beside a violent city kill.
A city that worships flesh.

The first thing I ever heard, was a wandering
Man telling his story
It was you, the grass under my bare feet,
The campfire in the dead of night,
The heavenly black of sky and sea.

It was us,
Roaming the rainy roads, combing the guilded beaches.
Waking up to a new gallery of wonders every morn,
Bathing in places no-one's seen before,
Shipwrecked on some matt-painted island,
Clad in nothing but the surf - beauty's finest robe.

Beyond all mortality we are, swinging in the breath of nature,
In early air of the dawn of life,
A sight to silence the heavens.

I want to travel where life travels,
Following it's permanent lead.
Where the air tastes like snow music,
Where grass smells like fresh-born Eden,
I would pass no man, no stranger, no tragedy or rapture,
I would bathe in a world of sensation,
Love, goodness and simplicity.

(While violated and imprisoned by technology)

The thought of my family's graves was the only moment
I used to experience true love
That love remains infintie,
As I'll never be the man my father is.

How can you "just be yourself"
When you don't know who you are?
Stop saying "I know how you feel"
How could anyone know how another feels?

Who am I to judge a priest, beggar,
Whore, politician, wrongdoer?
I am, you are, all of them already.

Dear child, stop working, go play
Forget every rule
There's no fear in a dream!

"Is there a village inside this snowflake?"
- a child asked me.
"What's the colour of our lullaby?"

I've never been so close to truth as then,
I touched it's silver lining!

Death is the winner in any war,
Nothing noble in dying for your religion,
For your country,
For ideology, for faith,
For another man. Yes!

Paper is dead without words,
Ink idle without a poem,
All the world dead without stories.
Without love and disarming beauty.

Careless, realism costs souls.

Ever seen the Lord smile?
All the care for the world made Beautiful a sad man?
Why do we still carry a device of torture around our necks?
Oh, how rotten your pre-apocalypse is,
All you bible-black fools living over nightmare ground.

I see all those empty cradles and wonder
If man will never change.

I, too, wish to be a decent manboy, but all I am
Is smoke and mirrors.
Still given everything, may I be deserving.

And there forever remains that change from G to E minor.



Lyrics taken from http://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/n/nightwish/song_of_myself.html

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  • U
    +1
    UnregisteredSep 3, 2012 at 10:19 pm
    This song is absolutely amazing and beautiful. My opinion is that the charm of this song is the inability to find meaning, like searching for meaning of life.
  • U
    +1
    UnregisteredSep 3, 2012 at 6:11 pm
    I cannot write my meaning to song of myself. I just keep it in my mind and the only thing i can type here, is... Magic exists. It is unbeatable , the feeling it gives to me.
  • U
    +1
    UnregisteredJun 16, 2012 at 10:01 pm
    All my angels sing one voice meaning is nothing less we tale the tale to my heart is as it is gone hahaha
  • U
    +1
    UnregisteredFeb 26, 2012 at 5:56 am
    For the person raising himself as a published poet, i'm inclined to disagree.

    If you were to hold somebody up as an example of bible blackness, you'd see a lot of immorality in their person.

    The cross is a device of torture, plain and simple. It was not worn by the early christians, so it couldn't be whatever symbolic voodoo you talk about. It was probably a revision of history, in the same way christmas came about from yuletide.

    Contrast that to something that's piano black. Things that come to mind is the person playing it. I don't think you could put immoral symbology into a piano unless its surroundings suggest it. A piano is a rich and luxurious instrument, not a book full of hate. They’re if anything, neutral. Or to make things more interesting, amoral since they lack a sense of morality entwined in them (seeing as they are not conscious beings, unlike the authors of the bible).

    Don't quote it out of context. It says "who are you to judge what you are? " (to paraphrase) if he's not a bible back rapture crazy, then i think it's safe to say he can judge somebody who's a bible black torture device lover (let alone the other pseudo masochistic people).

    On a final note, i think somebody who's a published poet would know the difference between where and wear.
  • U
    0
    UnregisteredAug 12, 2012 at 1:12 pm
    I love this song. I love nightwish! *-*
    and dear people, finally after this song you have to admit: anette is also great! ;)
    i loved tarja too but she's not nightwish anymore. Accept it.

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