Tev-tor svi'Falek-wak - Die in the Summertime

Fai-tor wehk-sular pa'ritsuri-wuh-set'ko k'Manic Street Preachers t'nash-veh. Pa'au ri fan-vel krol-tor nash-veh ri. Dan-krol-tor nash-veh kitau-tanaf-mnu spo'ekon t'Richey Edwards.

Many of you know about my obsession with the Manic Street Preachers. There is absolutely nothing about them I do not admire. I admired Richey Edwards' god-like lyrical skill most of all.

Tev-tor svi'falek-wak

Sash-thes-tor mal t'nash-veh k'zhar'es felu
K'la'tusan hakausu
Kur-tor isachya t'nash-veh - hi sa-to'ovau kur-tukh
Ri hafau nash-veh nodo-tangu

Bikuvlar t'kan-wak korsovau - sok'i eh k'mol-kom
Gla-tor nash-veh shal ri k'vashaun zehlar
Ovsot gadlar - lehman pi'gelar vi'pilashlar

Ki'ukrau nash-veh ni irak fi'vla
Naglanshau nash-veh neik-ha'gel-ulidarlar t'fereikan
Aitlu nash-veh tev-tor - tev-tor svi'falek-wak
Aitlu nash-veh tev-tor

Razh svi'ha'kiv t'nash-veh kurau ruhm solek
Netakidau khaf-spol t'nash-veh -
pi'khaf-spol-gaya goh
Pi'aushfa - vi'tcha yonuk-da-kuv
Kuv tun-tor du maut
pu-tor du ash'yalar t'eit'dzhae-sular

Die in the Summertime

Scratch my leg with a rusty nail
Sadly it heals
Color my hair, but the dye grows out
I can't seem to stay a fixed ideal

Childhood pictures redeem, clean and so serene
See myself without ruining lines
Whole days throwing sticks into streams

I have crawled so far sideways
I recognise dim traces of creation
I wanna die, die in the summertime
I wanna die

The hole in my life even stains the soil
My heart shrinks
to barely a pulse
A tiny animal curled into a quarter circle
If you really care
wash the feet of a beggar