Jihlava (Czech pronunciation: [ˈjɪɦlava]; German: Iglau) is a city in the Czech Republic. Jihlava is a capital of the Vysočina Region, situated on the Jihlava river (German Igel) on the historical border between Moravia and Bohemia, and is the oldest mining town in the Czech Republic, approximately 50 years older than Kutná Hora.
Among the principal buildings are the early Gothic churches of St. Jacob, Friars Minor church of Our Lady and Dominican church of Holy Cross, the Baroque church of St. Ignatius of Loyola, the Municipal Hall and a number of municipal houses containing Gothic and Renaissance details. There is also a Jewish cemetery, containing some remarkable monuments including the tombstone of the parents of Gustav Mahler.
The city's German name, Iglau, is derived from the German word for hedgehog, Igel, hence the hedgehog on the coat of arms. According to legend, already in the year 799 silver was mined in Iglau. King Ottokar I established a mint, and Iglau was granted extensive privileges from early times onwards.
A rope tightens
Breath constricted
No hand pulls this is self-inflicted sickness
Sickness
Self diagnosed without witness
Wish list grip fist
The beggary of riches
A belly full fights never willingly
An empty stomach does not have the energy to finish it
Layers in between
Padded by a dream
Stretching for the means
Without thought of exhausting the seams
No space for indiginity
On the face of simplicity
A taste of sufficiency's
A bellyfull of lethargy
A dash of apathy a pinch of extacy's a recipe
Serving up a feast for the beast of our treachery
Not sure if your getting celebrity's out effigy
I hear just fine
But I'm deaf to those next to me
Conflict it perplexes me
Cause out biggest battle
Is now we're so free that we choose to be shackled
I'm stuck freedom lasso
This invisible strain of the human stain
Colours every brain, vein
Thus chained to another's pain
We may not be the artist by we surely are the fram
We may just be the smoke
But we cannot blame the flame
Strange is the fruit
That nourishes not the vein
Yet we are odder still
For we seek it like the rain
Nothing bounds out path
Yet we march perfect in lane
Whoever saw a tiger that desired to be tamed?
Reality defies
Nature does not know surprise
Yet the lesion of our season blinds even the eagle's eyes
Spies dread not headlock tight as threadknot
Get lost why throw a bone to a dead dog?
This is not charity
That is just sarcasm
That's why we bite so hard and never bark at em
Spark at em's insane
It's play gather and prey
When even the mighty tiger
He desires to be tamed
I'm stuck freedome lasso
They act as if it's positive
Though it's so obviously derogative
And even if you're bobby
This is never your prerogative
It's obvious we're warriors
And crooked just like bobby is
But colleges and mockeries
Will never make a socrates
Apologies and robberies
They follow with atrocity
Sorrow and hypocrisy
Don't make very good crockery
Watchin' this it's horror bliss
And one day I will promise this
The day the tiger wakes