Anis Mojgani - These Branches Are Full and These Orchards Heavy [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

Gentlemen, have you forgotten your god?
He weeps out loud
Waiting for our dreams to grow like ears
While you are making ghosts out of people
Making ghosts from your Torah
Your Qu'ran
Your Bible

We have shaved our books down
Swallowed them so that the word of God might flow through us
But the pages just sit in our bellies
Speaking to us in dull murmurs as we try to sleep
We wake
Wonder what to do
"Make me understand"

We wish to become one with him
We hear these voices inside and think we know what they say
"This
This is the word of God
I hear this
I heard this correctly"

So we rise and try to translate this word
With the work
With the heart
We search through thighs
The blanket, the legs, the needle twist
The "fucks" and "fuck you" curse of the moon
To find our Lord and listen more proper like

But our ears are too small for our hearts to understand
The humming of these sentences inside

"We are trying to decipher the bang, buck, braile of Your silent throat, Lord"
But the voices they grow and grow just as fuzzy
So we stand and go to the kitchens
And pick up knives to cut these voices out from inside
We stab ourselves
"I must hear You"

We stab, cutting the flap of our skin
The words twisting on the floor of our homes
Mixing their sounds with our blood
They drown, but it does not stop
"I must hear you"

We hear these same songs in the stomachs of others
So we grab more knives to cut those out but there are more and more stomachs
We need bigger knives
We need soldiers, tanks, and missiles
But we still cannot make out the words
We need dead mothers, children raped from searching
The hospitals are full and overflowing
From us trying to cut our God from our gut

With the blade, the pipe, the fingernail twist of the drug
Pushed and poked through the arm to the belly to throw Him up
And in the bang of the scream
We find our saviour
The shell in the chamber is a quiet plea to a distant God
Asking for us to be remembered by Him

Through the tire tread
Through the smoke from the tank
The crunch from the skull of the babies we bury beneath us
We empty them out to see a scrap of our Lord
Still lingered somewhere inside there

We clutch throats, pistols, and palms in the same two-handed clasp of prayer
Staring into the mirror we see crypts
Fondling the marble of our hearts like they are mausoleums
We are ghosts
Hungry for something bigger than what are mouths are kissing

Let me see You
Let me see You, Lord
I am balanced int he middle of the question
Black as my eye
Beaten by Your hymn, I am holding still

So go ahead
You gentlemen of God
Tender sinners

Take your rifles
Raise to my gut and fire on

Here the song more clearly
It does not sing what you wish it did
It is too big for us to even see a letter of it

Cut Him from me
I wish to drape His face with my kisses
And finally sleep softly