The Cheerful Corpse Dance. Весёлый танец мертвецов. The song is in English.
My chéerful córpse awákens in the mórning líght, The sún is shíning cleárly, rádiant and bríght. Únder the gáze of héaven, the cloúds párt awáy, The góds are wátching clósely as I stárt my dáy. My spírit tréads so líghtly on this mórtal eárth, A dánce of pure etérnity, a gránd rebírth. Dánce for the déad, let your spírit flý, Únder the stárlíght, we néver truly dié. Óver my chéerful bódy, glóry unfoúlds, In this sácred crádle that the fúture hólds. Láughter and jóy in the mórning déw, I’m wáking up to dánce with yoú! A súrfer on the wáves of the ínternet séa, In púrsuit of the fúture, whére I wánt to bé. To the shóps full of láughter, we gaily thróng, With the cáll of the foótball, a féstive sóng. I wátch the shádows pláy behind the thíck gláss, And húm a géntle mélo-dy as hoúrs páss. I ténderly embráce my lóve in sílent hoúrs, A dánce for the déad among the bloóming flówers. Mémories in ámber, where feár meets a smíle, Stáy with me, dárling, just a líttle whíle. I túrn on the líght through the dárkest thoúght, Fínding the jóy that my soúl has soúght. Dánce for the déad, let your spírit flý, Únder the stárlíght, we néver truly dié. Óver my chéerful bódy, glóry unfoúlds, In this sácred crádle that the fúture hólds. Awáken to my jóy, let your heárts soár, Etérnal spírits dáncing forevérmore. Forevérmore...
My chéerful córpse awákens in the mórning líght, The sún is shíning cleárly, rádiant and bríght. Únder the gáze of héaven, the cloúds párt awáy, The góds are wátching clósely as I stárt my dáy. My spírit tréads so líghtly on this mórtal eárth, A dánce of pure etérnity, a gránd rebírth. Dánce for the déad, let your spírit flý, Únder the stárlíght, we néver truly dié. Óver my chéerful bódy, glóry unfoúlds, In this sácred crádle that the fúture hólds. Láughter and jóy in the mórning déw, I’m wáking up to dánce with yoú! A súrfer on the wáves of the ínternet séa, In púrsuit of the fúture, whére I wánt to bé. To the shóps full of láughter, we gaily thróng, With the cáll of the foótball, a féstive sóng. I wátch the shádows pláy behind the thíck gláss, And húm a géntle mélo-dy as hoúrs páss. I ténderly embráce my lóve in sílent hoúrs, A dánce for the déad among the bloóming flówers. Mémories in ámber, where feár meets a smíle, Stáy with me, dárling, just a líttle whíle. I túrn on the líght through the dárkest thoúght, Fínding the jóy that my soúl has soúght. Dánce for the déad, let your spírit flý, Únder the stárlíght, we néver truly dié. Óver my chéerful bódy, glóry unfoúlds, In this sácred crádle that the fúture hólds. Awáken to my jóy, let your heárts soár, Etérnal spírits dáncing forevérmore. Forevérmore...