Good day, welcometh to our musical marvel. Heareth our rendition of the famous tune and wallow in merriment, Cruel Summer originally by Taylor Swift. Pray, let mercy arrive and cleanse
What deeds I have wrought. thee drop a liketh & subscribeth for more of our sweet melodies as they are released upon thineselves. We hope to see thee in good stead on the morrow!
What slayeth me not, makes me yearn thee more.
Be sure to subscribe for more content here: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCA_GCogdjMaVjv19y3gl6NQ?sub_confirmation=1
You can find this track and more on Spotify!: https://open.spotify.com/artist/1BMITM12bahSSVJjmdDmuF?si=w5-NzQc7RTKperbORmdPwQ
Followeth Me On:
►Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/artist/1BMITM12bahSSVJjmdDmuF?si=xtWtgCDqTcmMjeXccnj4Jw
►Apple Music: https://music.apple.com/us/artist/bardcore/1537773807
►Amazon Music: https://music.amazon.co.uk/artists/B08M3K9Z9V/bardcore
►Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/BardcoreOfficial
►Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/bardcoreband/
►Twitter: https://twitter.com/TheBardcore
For more of our covers go to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J7lhIIIUUaA&list=PLNBGdTWnQ7ck2LRP86SjcVRr5uHzz2Rqp&ab_channel=Bardcore
Lyrics
Fever dream high in the still of the night,
Thou knowest I have caught it;
Ill, ill boy,
Bright toy with a cost,
Thou knowest I have bought it.
It slays me slowly, out the casement,
Ever do I await thee to await beneath.
Demons cast the lots, seraphs roll their eyes,
What slayeth me not, makes me yearn thee more.
And 'tis new, the form of thy frame,
'Tis blue, the sentiment I hold,
And 'tis oh, whoa, oh,
'Tis a cruel summer.
'Tis cool, thus I tell them,
No laws in fragile paradise,
But oh, whoa, oh,
'Tis a cruel summer
With thee.
Hang thy head low
In the glow of the vending apparatus,
I perish not.
Thou say we'll but ruin it in these trying times,
We strive not.
So sever the lanterns, summer’s a blade,
Ever do I await thee just to slice to the bone.
Demons cast the lots, seraphs roll their eyes,
And if I bleed, thou shalt be the last to wot.
Oh, 'tis new, the form of thy frame,
'Tis blue, the sentiment I hold,
And 'tis oh, whoa, oh,
'Tis a cruel summer.
'Tis cool, thus I tell them,
No laws in fragile paradise,
But oh, whoa, oh,
'Tis a cruel summer
With thee.
Inebriate in the rear of the coach,
And I wept like a babe returning from the tavern (oh),
Said, "I am well," but it was not true,
I desire not to keep secrets just to retain thee.
And I crept through the garden barrier
Every eve that summer just to doom my destiny (oh),
And I cried out for whatever it's worth,
"I love thee," is that not the vilest thing thou hast ever heard?
He gazes up grinning like a fiend.
What deeds I have wrought. thee drop a liketh & subscribeth for more of our sweet melodies as they are released upon thineselves. We hope to see thee in good stead on the morrow!
What slayeth me not, makes me yearn thee more.
Be sure to subscribe for more content here: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCA_GCogdjMaVjv19y3gl6NQ?sub_confirmation=1
You can find this track and more on Spotify!: https://open.spotify.com/artist/1BMITM12bahSSVJjmdDmuF?si=w5-NzQc7RTKperbORmdPwQ
Followeth Me On:
►Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/artist/1BMITM12bahSSVJjmdDmuF?si=xtWtgCDqTcmMjeXccnj4Jw
►Apple Music: https://music.apple.com/us/artist/bardcore/1537773807
►Amazon Music: https://music.amazon.co.uk/artists/B08M3K9Z9V/bardcore
►Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/BardcoreOfficial
►Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/bardcoreband/
►Twitter: https://twitter.com/TheBardcore
For more of our covers go to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J7lhIIIUUaA&list=PLNBGdTWnQ7ck2LRP86SjcVRr5uHzz2Rqp&ab_channel=Bardcore
Lyrics
Fever dream high in the still of the night,
Thou knowest I have caught it;
Ill, ill boy,
Bright toy with a cost,
Thou knowest I have bought it.
It slays me slowly, out the casement,
Ever do I await thee to await beneath.
Demons cast the lots, seraphs roll their eyes,
What slayeth me not, makes me yearn thee more.
And 'tis new, the form of thy frame,
'Tis blue, the sentiment I hold,
And 'tis oh, whoa, oh,
'Tis a cruel summer.
'Tis cool, thus I tell them,
No laws in fragile paradise,
But oh, whoa, oh,
'Tis a cruel summer
With thee.
Hang thy head low
In the glow of the vending apparatus,
I perish not.
Thou say we'll but ruin it in these trying times,
We strive not.
So sever the lanterns, summer’s a blade,
Ever do I await thee just to slice to the bone.
Demons cast the lots, seraphs roll their eyes,
And if I bleed, thou shalt be the last to wot.
Oh, 'tis new, the form of thy frame,
'Tis blue, the sentiment I hold,
And 'tis oh, whoa, oh,
'Tis a cruel summer.
'Tis cool, thus I tell them,
No laws in fragile paradise,
But oh, whoa, oh,
'Tis a cruel summer
With thee.
Inebriate in the rear of the coach,
And I wept like a babe returning from the tavern (oh),
Said, "I am well," but it was not true,
I desire not to keep secrets just to retain thee.
And I crept through the garden barrier
Every eve that summer just to doom my destiny (oh),
And I cried out for whatever it's worth,
"I love thee," is that not the vilest thing thou hast ever heard?
He gazes up grinning like a fiend.
Category
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MusicTranscript
00:00Thank you very much.