| Song | Falling Back In Fields Of Rape |
| Artist | Current 93 |
| Album | Dogs Blood Rising |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Current Ninety Three | |
| War | |
| In a foreign town | |
| In a foreign land | |
| Reaping time had come | |
| In fields of swaying rape | |
| It could not happen here | |
| Pushed to one side with the flick of a wrist | |
| Out of sight | |
| And out of mind | |
| Fallng back in fields of rape | |
| In yellow heads of blossom | |
| Mothers babies bleeding | |
| You stand there laughing | |
| Unquestioning unconfronting | |
| Poetic lines on the art of dying | |
| Falling back in fields of rape | |
| That was the way | |
| Those were the horrors | |
| As daddy went a-reaping | |
| In nodding heads of rape | |
| No mark on your spotless conscience | |
| No blemish on your immaculate body | |
| Untouched by sight or sound of misery | |
| Close the eyes | |
| Shift the responsibility | |
| It was not you | |
| It was not you | |
| Falling back in fields of rape | |
| My children | |
| Falling back in fields of rape | |
| It could not happen here | |
| Pushed to one side with a flick of the wrist | |
| Out of sight | |
| And out of mind | |
| Falling back in fields of rape | |
| Poetic lines on the art of dying | |
| Falling back in fields of rape | |
| That was the way | |
| And those were the horrors | |
| As daddy went a-reaping | |
| In nodding heads of rape | |
| No mark on your spotless conscience | |
| No blemish on your immaculate body | |
| Untouched by sight or sound of misery | |
| Close the eyes | |
| Shift the responsibility | |
| It wasn't you | |
| Falling back in fields of rape | |
| My children | |
| Falling back in fields of rape | |
| Here we go round the mulberry bush | |
| The mulberry bush | |
| The mulberry bush | |
| Here we go round the mulberry bush | |
| On a cold and frosty morning | |
| In a foreign town | |
| In a foreign land | |
| Reaping time had come | |
| Falling back in fields of rape | |
| My love | |
| And that was the way | |
| And those were the horrors | |
| As daddy went a-reaping | |
| Falling back in fields of rape | |
| My children | |
| Crushed, crushed, crushed | |
| In mud and wars | |
| Mother children bleeding | |
| You stand there laughing | |
| Falling back in fields of rape | |
| Never eating | |
| Bags of bones dying quietly | |
| Homeless | |
| Drinking foul water | |
| Sorting garbage | |
| With flies in heat | |
| Raped | |
| Axed | |
| Burned with acid | |
| Locked away for thirty years | |
| Thrown out of a helicopter | |
| Forced to labour endlessly | |
| Castrated | |
| Burned alive | |
| Killed so easily by firing squads | |
| In a foreign town | |
| In a foreign land | |
| Reaping time has come | |
| They're falling back | |
| In fields of rape | |
| In fields of rape | |
| They're falling back | |
| In fields of rape | |
| My love | |
| And this is our way | |
| And these are the horrors | |
| As we go a-reaping | |
| They're falling back | |
| In fields of rape | |
| In fields of rape | |
| They're falling back | |
| In fields of rape | |
| My darling | |
| And crushed, crushed, crushed | |
| In mud and wars | |
| Still you stand there laughing | |
| They're falling back in fields of rape | |
| In fields of rape they're falling back | |
| My lovers | |
| In fields of rape the ravens | |
| Descend. the yellow beak slashes | |
| Corn, the sickles are sharpened | |
| And the cattle bleed, and reaping | |
| Time has come, our voices grow | |
| Shriller, and our eyes glitter, but | |
| In this last summer the Rapture | |
| Descends, and father's mask has | |
| Turned to grey, and mother's | |
| Breasts are leper white, and | |
| Children's laughter cracks, and | |
| Reaping time has come, body and | |
| Blood, body and blood, body and | |
| Blood, body and mud, body and | |
| Blood, body and mud, and | |
| Christ's eyes, I am weary, and | |
| Christ's eyes, I want to melt | |
| Bleeding Jesus, be quick, be quick | |
| (And what would you do, my gentlest | |
| One...?) | |
| Falling back in fields of rape... |
| zuo ci : Current Ninety Three | |
| War | |
| In a foreign town | |
| In a foreign land | |
| Reaping time had come | |
| In fields of swaying rape | |
| It could not happen here | |
| Pushed to one side with the flick of a wrist | |
| Out of sight | |
| And out of mind | |
| Fallng back in fields of rape | |
| In yellow heads of blossom | |
| Mothers babies bleeding | |
| You stand there laughing | |
| Unquestioning unconfronting | |
| Poetic lines on the art of dying | |
| Falling back in fields of rape | |
| That was the way | |
| Those were the horrors | |
| As daddy went areaping | |
| In nodding heads of rape | |
| No mark on your spotless conscience | |
| No blemish on your immaculate body | |
| Untouched by sight or sound of misery | |
| Close the eyes | |
| Shift the responsibility | |
| It was not you | |
| It was not you | |
| Falling back in fields of rape | |
| My children | |
| Falling back in fields of rape | |
| It could not happen here | |
| Pushed to one side with a flick of the wrist | |
| Out of sight | |
| And out of mind | |
| Falling back in fields of rape | |
| Poetic lines on the art of dying | |
| Falling back in fields of rape | |
| That was the way | |
| And those were the horrors | |
| As daddy went areaping | |
| In nodding heads of rape | |
| No mark on your spotless conscience | |
| No blemish on your immaculate body | |
| Untouched by sight or sound of misery | |
| Close the eyes | |
| Shift the responsibility | |
| It wasn' t you | |
| Falling back in fields of rape | |
| My children | |
| Falling back in fields of rape | |
| Here we go round the mulberry bush | |
| The mulberry bush | |
| The mulberry bush | |
| Here we go round the mulberry bush | |
| On a cold and frosty morning | |
| In a foreign town | |
| In a foreign land | |
| Reaping time had come | |
| Falling back in fields of rape | |
| My love | |
| And that was the way | |
| And those were the horrors | |
| As daddy went areaping | |
| Falling back in fields of rape | |
| My children | |
| Crushed, crushed, crushed | |
| In mud and wars | |
| Mother children bleeding | |
| You stand there laughing | |
| Falling back in fields of rape | |
| Never eating | |
| Bags of bones dying quietly | |
| Homeless | |
| Drinking foul water | |
| Sorting garbage | |
| With flies in heat | |
| Raped | |
| Axed | |
| Burned with acid | |
| Locked away for thirty years | |
| Thrown out of a helicopter | |
| Forced to labour endlessly | |
| Castrated | |
| Burned alive | |
| Killed so easily by firing squads | |
| In a foreign town | |
| In a foreign land | |
| Reaping time has come | |
| They' re falling back | |
| In fields of rape | |
| In fields of rape | |
| They' re falling back | |
| In fields of rape | |
| My love | |
| And this is our way | |
| And these are the horrors | |
| As we go areaping | |
| They' re falling back | |
| In fields of rape | |
| In fields of rape | |
| They' re falling back | |
| In fields of rape | |
| My darling | |
| And crushed, crushed, crushed | |
| In mud and wars | |
| Still you stand there laughing | |
| They' re falling back in fields of rape | |
| In fields of rape they' re falling back | |
| My lovers | |
| In fields of rape the ravens | |
| Descend. the yellow beak slashes | |
| Corn, the sickles are sharpened | |
| And the cattle bleed, and reaping | |
| Time has come, our voices grow | |
| Shriller, and our eyes glitter, but | |
| In this last summer the Rapture | |
| Descends, and father' s mask has | |
| Turned to grey, and mother' s | |
| Breasts are leper white, and | |
| Children' s laughter cracks, and | |
| Reaping time has come, body and | |
| Blood, body and blood, body and | |
| Blood, body and mud, body and | |
| Blood, body and mud, and | |
| Christ' s eyes, I am weary, and | |
| Christ' s eyes, I want to melt | |
| Bleeding Jesus, be quick, be quick | |
| And what would you do, my gentlest | |
| One...? | |
| Falling back in fields of rape... |
| zuò cí : Current Ninety Three | |
| War | |
| In a foreign town | |
| In a foreign land | |
| Reaping time had come | |
| In fields of swaying rape | |
| It could not happen here | |
| Pushed to one side with the flick of a wrist | |
| Out of sight | |
| And out of mind | |
| Fallng back in fields of rape | |
| In yellow heads of blossom | |
| Mothers babies bleeding | |
| You stand there laughing | |
| Unquestioning unconfronting | |
| Poetic lines on the art of dying | |
| Falling back in fields of rape | |
| That was the way | |
| Those were the horrors | |
| As daddy went areaping | |
| In nodding heads of rape | |
| No mark on your spotless conscience | |
| No blemish on your immaculate body | |
| Untouched by sight or sound of misery | |
| Close the eyes | |
| Shift the responsibility | |
| It was not you | |
| It was not you | |
| Falling back in fields of rape | |
| My children | |
| Falling back in fields of rape | |
| It could not happen here | |
| Pushed to one side with a flick of the wrist | |
| Out of sight | |
| And out of mind | |
| Falling back in fields of rape | |
| Poetic lines on the art of dying | |
| Falling back in fields of rape | |
| That was the way | |
| And those were the horrors | |
| As daddy went areaping | |
| In nodding heads of rape | |
| No mark on your spotless conscience | |
| No blemish on your immaculate body | |
| Untouched by sight or sound of misery | |
| Close the eyes | |
| Shift the responsibility | |
| It wasn' t you | |
| Falling back in fields of rape | |
| My children | |
| Falling back in fields of rape | |
| Here we go round the mulberry bush | |
| The mulberry bush | |
| The mulberry bush | |
| Here we go round the mulberry bush | |
| On a cold and frosty morning | |
| In a foreign town | |
| In a foreign land | |
| Reaping time had come | |
| Falling back in fields of rape | |
| My love | |
| And that was the way | |
| And those were the horrors | |
| As daddy went areaping | |
| Falling back in fields of rape | |
| My children | |
| Crushed, crushed, crushed | |
| In mud and wars | |
| Mother children bleeding | |
| You stand there laughing | |
| Falling back in fields of rape | |
| Never eating | |
| Bags of bones dying quietly | |
| Homeless | |
| Drinking foul water | |
| Sorting garbage | |
| With flies in heat | |
| Raped | |
| Axed | |
| Burned with acid | |
| Locked away for thirty years | |
| Thrown out of a helicopter | |
| Forced to labour endlessly | |
| Castrated | |
| Burned alive | |
| Killed so easily by firing squads | |
| In a foreign town | |
| In a foreign land | |
| Reaping time has come | |
| They' re falling back | |
| In fields of rape | |
| In fields of rape | |
| They' re falling back | |
| In fields of rape | |
| My love | |
| And this is our way | |
| And these are the horrors | |
| As we go areaping | |
| They' re falling back | |
| In fields of rape | |
| In fields of rape | |
| They' re falling back | |
| In fields of rape | |
| My darling | |
| And crushed, crushed, crushed | |
| In mud and wars | |
| Still you stand there laughing | |
| They' re falling back in fields of rape | |
| In fields of rape they' re falling back | |
| My lovers | |
| In fields of rape the ravens | |
| Descend. the yellow beak slashes | |
| Corn, the sickles are sharpened | |
| And the cattle bleed, and reaping | |
| Time has come, our voices grow | |
| Shriller, and our eyes glitter, but | |
| In this last summer the Rapture | |
| Descends, and father' s mask has | |
| Turned to grey, and mother' s | |
| Breasts are leper white, and | |
| Children' s laughter cracks, and | |
| Reaping time has come, body and | |
| Blood, body and blood, body and | |
| Blood, body and mud, body and | |
| Blood, body and mud, and | |
| Christ' s eyes, I am weary, and | |
| Christ' s eyes, I want to melt | |
| Bleeding Jesus, be quick, be quick | |
| And what would you do, my gentlest | |
| One...? | |
| Falling back in fields of rape... |