发布于：2023年
播放：0次
时长：06:21
歌词
作曲 : Sinfield
I feel like a rusty key I don't fit any door
You stole my cloudy castles but you didn't say what for
You said I didn't have the eyes to paint out in the street
Without a standard martyr's hat and neon sloganned feet
To eat, it seems, I needed you, for crumbs your need was me
We cheered and passed the sanguine flask till the iceman made me see
At five o'clock you could never wash your printer's stain away
So I count you lost and your words I've tossed
In the bleary(weary) envelopes of yesterday...
I feel like a tumbling kite there's no hand on my reel
I dived aboard your star-bright ship to find you'd left the wheel
To hunt some upstart passengers who had gambled with their fare
Then trumpeted the hull with holes and laughing gone by air
Whilst most of us who stayed aboard slipped brandy to the crew
John Purser locked his iron box and pointed at the queue
Still working out the price of time no echoes will we lay
So I've burnt the till and I've thrown the bills
In the weary(weary) envelopes of yesterday...
I need to suck the breasts of time and freeze her milk in ink
To juggle cruets full of dreams and balance on the brink
Don't blame me if my smoke and steam obscured your rutted track
I only meant to startle you not offer you my back
To ride upon and overload with your jars of unbaked clay
You can find your guide to the pulpit ride
In the dreary(weary) envelopes of yesterday...
I'm upside down, I'm an empty town, my eyes are full of ghost
Of dusty windowed certainty and spider-webbed almost
I love, I hate this rock and roll, the ladies and the lights
Ate all my flowers long ago but the roots came through all right
Whilst now my toast is the crossroads post, I hear just out of sight
That the Black Pick's found his Chaldean lamp
After years in a concentration camp
But I fear he's still out on the ice
With his bagpipe mouth and his cup of crimson speiss
Still, I've fulfilled a host of dreams for that I'll cry hurray
But it won't be long till I cast this song
In the jet-edged envelopes...
(In the ash-filled envelopes...)
I feel like a rusty key I don't fit any door
You stole my cloudy castles but you didn't say what for
You said I didn't have the eyes to paint out in the street
Without a standard martyr's hat and neon sloganned feet
To eat, it seems, I needed you, for crumbs your need was me
We cheered and passed the sanguine flask till the iceman made me see
At five o'clock you could never wash your printer's stain away
So I count you lost and your words I've tossed
In the bleary(weary) envelopes of yesterday...
I feel like a tumbling kite there's no hand on my reel
I dived aboard your star-bright ship to find you'd left the wheel
To hunt some upstart passengers who had gambled with their fare
Then trumpeted the hull with holes and laughing gone by air
Whilst most of us who stayed aboard slipped brandy to the crew
John Purser locked his iron box and pointed at the queue
Still working out the price of time no echoes will we lay
So I've burnt the till and I've thrown the bills
In the weary(weary) envelopes of yesterday...
I need to suck the breasts of time and freeze her milk in ink
To juggle cruets full of dreams and balance on the brink
Don't blame me if my smoke and steam obscured your rutted track
I only meant to startle you not offer you my back
To ride upon and overload with your jars of unbaked clay
You can find your guide to the pulpit ride
In the dreary(weary) envelopes of yesterday...
I'm upside down, I'm an empty town, my eyes are full of ghost
Of dusty windowed certainty and spider-webbed almost
I love, I hate this rock and roll, the ladies and the lights
Ate all my flowers long ago but the roots came through all right
Whilst now my toast is the crossroads post, I hear just out of sight
That the Black Pick's found his Chaldean lamp
After years in a concentration camp
But I fear he's still out on the ice
With his bagpipe mouth and his cup of crimson speiss
Still, I've fulfilled a host of dreams for that I'll cry hurray
But it won't be long till I cast this song
In the jet-edged envelopes...
(In the ash-filled envelopes...)
lrc 歌词
[00:00.00] 作曲 : Sinfield [00:35.27] I feel like a rusty key I don't fit any door [00:42.24] You stole my cloudy castles but you didn't say what for [00:49.41] You said I didn't have the eyes to paint out in the street [00:56.50] Without a standard martyr's hat and neon sloganned feet [01:04.04] To eat, it seems, I needed you, for crumbs your need was me [01:11.15] We cheered and passed the sanguine flask till the iceman made me see [01:18.05] At five o'clock you could never wash your printer's stain away [01:25.01] So I count you lost and your words I've tossed [01:28.49] In the bleary(weary) envelopes of yesterday... [01:35.81] [01:37.68] I feel like a tumbling kite there's no hand on my reel [01:44.63] I dived aboard your star-bright ship to find you'd left the wheel [01:51.74] To hunt some upstart passengers who had gambled with their fare [01:58.56] Then trumpeted the hull with holes and laughing gone by air [02:05.72] Whilst most of us who stayed aboard slipped brandy to the crew [02:12.79] John Purser locked his iron box and pointed at the queue [02:19.72] Still working out the price of time no echoes will we lay [02:26.83] So I've burnt the till and I've thrown the bills [02:30.71] In the weary(weary) envelopes of yesterday... [02:37.68] [03:21.04] I need to suck the breasts of time and freeze her milk in ink [03:28.24] To juggle cruets full of dreams and balance on the brink [03:35.04] Don't blame me if my smoke and steam obscured your rutted track [03:42.09] I only meant to startle you not offer you my back [03:49.21] To ride upon and overload with your jars of unbaked clay [03:55.96] You can find your guide to the pulpit ride [03:59.57] In the dreary(weary) envelopes of yesterday... [04:06.55] [04:09.43] I'm upside down, I'm an empty town, my eyes are full of ghost [04:17.22] Of dusty windowed certainty and spider-webbed almost [04:23.95] I love, I hate this rock and roll, the ladies and the lights [04:30.70] Ate all my flowers long ago but the roots came through all right [04:37.65] Whilst now my toast is the crossroads post, I hear just out of sight [04:44.81] That the Black Pick's found his Chaldean lamp [04:48.30] After years in a concentration camp [04:51.67] But I fear he's still out on the ice [04:55.08] With his bagpipe mouth and his cup of crimson speiss [05:02.32] [05:25.80] Still, I've fulfilled a host of dreams for that I'll cry hurray [05:26:00] (Still, I've explored a plague of dreams and I've led the masquerade) [05:32.61] But it won't be long till I cast this song [05:36.33] In the jet-edged envelopes... [05:36.53] (In the ash-filled envelopes...) [05:39.89]
