Top Songs By The Scarlet Pimpernel
Credits
AUSFÜHRENDE KÜNSTLER:INNEN
Terry Mann
Künstler:in
Richard Sarpola
Bassgitarre
Gilbert DeJean
Fagott
Daniel D. Miller
Cello
Sarah Hewitt
Cello
Andrew Sterman
Klarinette
Edward Joffe
Flöte
Chris Komer
Waldhorn
Kelly Dent
Waldhorn
Robert Gustafson
Tasteninstrumente
Wendy Bobbitt
Tasteninstrumente
James Roh
Oboe
Benjamin Herman
Percussion/Schlagzeug
John Meyers
Percussion/Schlagzeug
Mike Christianson
Posaune
Chris Gekker
Trompete
Leslie Tomkins
Bratsche
Liuh-Wen Ting
Bratsche
Rex Smith
Stimme und Gesang
Danny Miller
Cello
KOMPOSITION UND LIEDTEXT
Frank Wildhorn
Songwriter:in
Nan Knighton
Songwriter:in
PRODUKTION UND TECHNIK
Frank Wildhorn
Produzent:in
Lyrics
Comb the city, every street, every grate
You put a guard at every gate
Drag him out, shout the moment that you find him
Damn!
Knock in the doors, lock up the city
Track him down through this town
And be quick about it, now
How the devil can I ever prevail when I'm only a man?
I can never be duped by that scurrilous phantom again
I wasn't born to walk on water
I wasn't born to sack and slaughter
But on my soul, I wasn't born to stoop to scorn and knuckle under
A man can learn to steal some thunder
A man can learn to work some wonder
But when the gauntlet's down, it's time to rise and climb the sky
And soon the moon will smoulder, and the winds will drive
Yes, a man grows older, but his soul remains alive
All those tremulous stars still glitter, and I will survive
Let my heart grow colder and as bitter as a falcon in the dive
There was a dream, a dying ember
There was a dream I don't remember
But I will resurrect that dream though rivers stream and hills grow steeper
For here in Hell where life gets cheaper
Oh, here in Hell, the blood runs deeper
And when the final duel is near, I'll lift my spear and fly
Piercing into the sky and higher, and the strong will thrive
Yes, the weak will cower while the fittest will survive
If we wait for the darkest hour 'til we spring alive
Then with claws of fire, we devour like a falcon in the dive
These are the days, yes, days of glory, days of rage and the dream
And the dream of Paris preys on my bones
Gnawing night and day and clawing through my brain, and no, never kneel
Never bend! Rend him to bits, bite! Now, the beauty of the fight
I'm not a man to hunger for blood, but the spirit can cry to be younger and fiercer and fly
Piercing into the sky and higher, and the strong will thrive
Yes, the weak will cower while the fittest will survive
If we wait for the darkest hour 'til we spring alive
Then with claws of fire, we devour like a falcon in the dive
Writer(s): Frank Wildhorn, Nan Knighton
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