Song number 4 of the debut disk of Overground "Cosmic Shield Revival" Whispers for the gravdigger. The man's last habitation, his eternal home. Many histories finish and begin in the skilled gravedigger's hands. Cries, laughs, loves and hates. There is not further on after that place, it doesn't care the religion, the credo, the color of the skin. It doesn't care if it is a cross or one stones, a simple tomb or a marble mausoleum. The good-bye is always the same one.
Canción número 4 del disco debut de Overground "Cosmic Shield Revival" Susurros para el enterrador. La última morada del hombre, su hogar eterno. Muchas historias terminan y comienzan en manos del hábil sepulturero. Llantos, risas, amores y odios. No hay más allá luego de ese lugar, no importa la religión, el credo, el color de la piel. No importa si es una cruz o una lapida, una sencilla tumba o un mausoleo de mármol. El adiós es siempre el mismo.
WHISPERS FOR THE GRAVEDIGGER
Good and evil they arrive to his encounter
There are neither distinctions nor race
There are neither expressions nor insults
Social positions don't exist
Sad soldiers troops' parade
Uniformed in black
Camouflages of spotted veils of ebony
Cults and cries for a dead
For two or three
It doesn't matter the number of bodies
Blackened mothers of pain
Walk through the avenue
Of crosses and tombs
The same steps
Same people
Different atmospheres and feelings
Whispers for the Gravedigger
In the coldest nights on the burial ground
Whispers for the Gravedigger
The oldest warrior wearing mourning clothes
Six supports of two legs
They form the spider of the funeral courting
Black neckerchiefs, forever painted in black
Are their diadems of torture
Starvation, desperation
Horror, disillusion
Elements of human conspiracy
Closed eyes
Inside and on the outside
Sunken in the far beyond
All will fall in the abysses
Of fire and tortures
That the humanity has created
Blinded by fanaticism
For their own torture
After the death
Whispers for the Gravedigger
In the coldest nights on the burial ground
Whispers for the Gravedigger
The oldest warrior wearing mourning clothes
When finally he knew which his goal was
He dug his tomb and arranged his sepulcher
Next to his family, all had left before him
Without warnings neither notes of farewell
In the darkness kiss the death
It is the hour in which all we laugh
Ours skull shows an eternal laughter
The maggots welcome us in whispering banquet
(Solo: Orlando Cordero)
A single prayer
Accompanies his epitaph
In the lonely funeral
It is time for the substitution
A new gravedigger
Should replace to the previous one
But, no more!
There is work to be done
People request to be buried
There is not time for rituals
There is not time for you cry
Neither farewell
Whispers for the Gravedigger
In the coldest nights on the burial ground
Whispers for the Gravedigger
The oldest warrior wearing mourning clothes
Lyrics and music by Orlando Cordero
Original photos edited by me
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