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All Sleep on the Hill

Pop/Ballad • Lírico: Monica Bergo

All Sleep on the Hill

5.00 USD

vendedor Monica Bergo
PDF, 362.3 Kb ID: SM-000385582 data do carregamento: 12 abr 2020
Piano, Flauta de Pã, Violino, Violoncelo
Tipo de composição
Partitura completa
Monica Bergo
This music and song of mine composed by me are dedicated to the tragedy of femicide


As words and images flow
They all sleep on the hill
They are many, so beautiful and pale
They wait on the hill
Fragile-looking princesses
That ask unnecessary questions
They are dead and now they are free
But I'm still here

"Had I been more compliant, had I been a little more docile
He is always so unstable, maybe it was my fault "
“If I had known how to take it, and learned not to respond
If I had always said yes, I would be alive and still there "

They are women of all nationalities
And little girls who will never bloom
As the seasons and years go by
Their face is ageless
Tonight the sky is brighter
It will be they who shine
Shooting stars now that you no longer have a place
Tell me where you will run away

You feel guilty
But it is not you who sinned
Hide the signs
It is the secret within you
Everybody knows
but it is more convenient to keep silent
Until you yourself lie
I had a dream, a nightmare but I was awake
On the hill you waited for me

And they are mothers, lovers or daughters
Prostitutes, saints or wives
They have no hell or heaven
They are waiting for you
And justice will not belong to men
But of anyone who sees everything, who knows everything
 when your time is running out
Tell me who can ever save you

Princess, sleep in the trash
Your prince no longer has control
And a tear remains motionless
Witness of the atrocity
Follow the avenue of pain and tears
And you walk up the hill
And join the motionless companions
Waiting for you on the hill

And they share a horrible fate
Different stories with the same ending
And as avenging goddesses they wait
The man who defiled them
And it's an army of black angels
their choir is high and unstoppable
resounds loud, an echo that is relentless
your sleep will torment
and a thousand ways to beat well you know
hide from the world what you really are
the last image behind those eyes of his
the blind fury inside you

while in the sky a lightning already rumbles
I also start on the hill
I lay a flower then I remain motionless
and I fall asleep here, on the hill ……… ..

                                                      Monica Bergo
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