What Child Is This?
What child is this, who, laid to rest
On Mary's lap, is sleeping?
Whom angels greet with anthems sweet,
While shepherds watch are keeping?
This, this is Christ the King,
Whom shepherds guard and angels sing:
Haste, haste to bring him laud,
The Babe, the Son of Mary!
So bring Him incense, gold, and myrrh,
Come peasant king to own Him,
The King of kings, salvation brings,
Let loving hearts enthrone Him.
Raise, raise the song on high,
The Virgin sings her lullaby:
Joy, joy, for Christ is born,
The Babe, the Son of Mary!
We recommend: Hazy Shade Of Winter
There's a wind inside my soul,
Burnin' secrets in the cold.
My spirit rages.
And the faces in my field,
Only flesh made out of him.
My body ages.
Houses made of stone and ice.
Chimneys smokey paradise.
If you gotta leave, you gotta leave alone.
CHORUS:
Oh Lord, there's a full moon, oh Lord, in my eyes.
There's a full moon; insane vision in disguise.
There's a full moon.
Oh Lord, there's a full moon out tonight.
Old men close their eyes and weep.
Young men pray that they're asleep,
Inside the madness.
Young girls dance
Burnin' secrets in the cold.
My spirit rages.
And the faces in my field,
Only flesh made out of him.
My body ages.
Houses made of stone and ice.
Chimneys smokey paradise.
If you gotta leave, you gotta leave alone.
CHORUS:
Oh Lord, there's a full moon, oh Lord, in my eyes.
There's a full moon; insane vision in disguise.
There's a full moon.
Oh Lord, there's a full moon out tonight.
Old men close their eyes and weep.
Young men pray that they're asleep,
Inside the madness.
Young girls dance