Текст Of Montreal – Wintered Debts

Can’t survive another comedown day
When my spirit houses so much pain
So much bitterness
So much bitterness

I need teach myself to feel again
Somehow I lost the thread of being human
Wrapped up in this bitterness
Too much bitterness, too much bitterness, too much bitterness, too much bitterness

I’m so confused, what is the function of this ego sickness?
Uselessly beleaguered by self hatred whisperings
And I can’t deal with mourning at the carcass of my failures any longer

Slipping on my own vomit while I
tried to call you from a bathroom in Sao Paulo
But I was too drunk to formulate any sort of earthly language
So much bitterness
Too much bitterness, too much bitterness

Other people can say there is a true belief system
But all my life I’ve been betrayed by my mother’s religion
So much bitterness
Too much bitterness, too much bitterness, too much bitterness, too much bitterness

I’m so destroyed, what is the purpose of this ego sickness?
Uselessly beseiged by self aversion whisperings
Man, I can’t deal with mourning at the carcass of my failures any longer
Any longer

Can’t seem to get the saddle on the spoils of this morbid fugue
My mantras of subhuman nature, just a veil for all elation

The ink’s dripping all over me; the only regret I have is caring
Are we posing? Are we props, riding the anger until it stops?

Father, will we starve today? Father, will we starve?
Father, will we starve today? Father, will we starve?

No my child, there are wild women in here and a crafty fish am I
No my child, there are wild women in here and a fleshy catch am I

Will our quarters be the sunken earth deep beneath the meadow?
Will our quarters be the sunken earth deep beneath the ground?

No my child, you lay your head upon a monstrous felony
No my child, you lay your head upon a gross misdeed

becomes too soft
Father will I cry again, crossed the earth to fight
Father will I cry again, a victim of obese

No my child, don’t be (pessable
?), the world needs more distinction
For all retribution, a symbol of delight

It’s hard to sympathize with those that won’t fight for themselves
I can’t hold both our faces off the flames much longer
The child of our struggle is free
I’ve fallen out of love with the prisoner
That’s to save us