歌曲 | I Am Disappeared |
歌手 | Frank Turner |
专辑 | England Keep My Bones |
下载 | Image LRC TXT |
作曲 : Turner | |
作词 : Turner | |
I keep having dreams | |
Of pioneers and pirate ships and Bob Dylan | |
Of people wrapped up tight in the things that'll kill them | |
Of being trapped in a lift plunging straight to the bottom | |
Of open seas and ways of life we've forgotten | |
I keep having dreams | |
Amy worked in a bar in Exeter | |
I went back to her house and I slept beside her | |
She woke up screaming in the middle of the night | |
Terrified of her own insides | |
Dreams of pirate ships and Patty Hearst | |
Breaking through a life over rehearsed | |
She can't remember which came first | |
The house the home or the terrible thirst | |
She keeps having dreams | |
And on the worst days | |
When it feels like life weighs ten thousand tonnes | |
She's got her cowboy boots and car keys on the bed stand | |
So she can always run | |
She can get up, shower in half an hour | |
She'd be gone | |
I keep having dreams of things I need to do | |
Of waking up and not following through | |
It feels like I haven't slept at all | |
When I wake to a silence and she's facing the wall | |
Posters of Dylan and of Hemingway | |
An antique compass for a sailor's escape | |
She says you just can't live this way | |
I close my eyes and I never say | |
I'm still having dreams | |
And on the worst days | |
When it feels like life weighs ten thousand tonnes | |
I sleep with my passport | |
One eye on the back door | |
So I can always run | |
I can get up, shower and in half an hour | |
I'd be gone | |
And come morning | |
I am disappeared | |
Just an imprint | |
On the bed sheets | |
And by the roadside | |
With my thumb out | |
A car pulls up | |
And Bob's driving | |
So I climb in | |
We don't say a word | |
As we pull off | |
Into the sunrise | |
And these rivers | |
Of tarmac | |
Are like arteries | |
'Cross the country | |
We are blood cells | |
Alive in | |
The blood stream | |
And beating heart of the country | |
We are electric | |
Pulses | |
In pathways | |
Of the sleeping soul of the country | |
We are electric | |
Pulses | |
In the pathway | |
Of the sleeping soul of the country | |
(We are electric) |
zuo qu : Turner | |
zuo ci : Turner | |
I keep having dreams | |
Of pioneers and pirate ships and Bob Dylan | |
Of people wrapped up tight in the things that' ll kill them | |
Of being trapped in a lift plunging straight to the bottom | |
Of open seas and ways of life we' ve forgotten | |
I keep having dreams | |
Amy worked in a bar in Exeter | |
I went back to her house and I slept beside her | |
She woke up screaming in the middle of the night | |
Terrified of her own insides | |
Dreams of pirate ships and Patty Hearst | |
Breaking through a life over rehearsed | |
She can' t remember which came first | |
The house the home or the terrible thirst | |
She keeps having dreams | |
And on the worst days | |
When it feels like life weighs ten thousand tonnes | |
She' s got her cowboy boots and car keys on the bed stand | |
So she can always run | |
She can get up, shower in half an hour | |
She' d be gone | |
I keep having dreams of things I need to do | |
Of waking up and not following through | |
It feels like I haven' t slept at all | |
When I wake to a silence and she' s facing the wall | |
Posters of Dylan and of Hemingway | |
An antique compass for a sailor' s escape | |
She says you just can' t live this way | |
I close my eyes and I never say | |
I' m still having dreams | |
And on the worst days | |
When it feels like life weighs ten thousand tonnes | |
I sleep with my passport | |
One eye on the back door | |
So I can always run | |
I can get up, shower and in half an hour | |
I' d be gone | |
And come morning | |
I am disappeared | |
Just an imprint | |
On the bed sheets | |
And by the roadside | |
With my thumb out | |
A car pulls up | |
And Bob' s driving | |
So I climb in | |
We don' t say a word | |
As we pull off | |
Into the sunrise | |
And these rivers | |
Of tarmac | |
Are like arteries | |
' Cross the country | |
We are blood cells | |
Alive in | |
The blood stream | |
And beating heart of the country | |
We are electric | |
Pulses | |
In pathways | |
Of the sleeping soul of the country | |
We are electric | |
Pulses | |
In the pathway | |
Of the sleeping soul of the country | |
We are electric |
zuò qǔ : Turner | |
zuò cí : Turner | |
I keep having dreams | |
Of pioneers and pirate ships and Bob Dylan | |
Of people wrapped up tight in the things that' ll kill them | |
Of being trapped in a lift plunging straight to the bottom | |
Of open seas and ways of life we' ve forgotten | |
I keep having dreams | |
Amy worked in a bar in Exeter | |
I went back to her house and I slept beside her | |
She woke up screaming in the middle of the night | |
Terrified of her own insides | |
Dreams of pirate ships and Patty Hearst | |
Breaking through a life over rehearsed | |
She can' t remember which came first | |
The house the home or the terrible thirst | |
She keeps having dreams | |
And on the worst days | |
When it feels like life weighs ten thousand tonnes | |
She' s got her cowboy boots and car keys on the bed stand | |
So she can always run | |
She can get up, shower in half an hour | |
She' d be gone | |
I keep having dreams of things I need to do | |
Of waking up and not following through | |
It feels like I haven' t slept at all | |
When I wake to a silence and she' s facing the wall | |
Posters of Dylan and of Hemingway | |
An antique compass for a sailor' s escape | |
She says you just can' t live this way | |
I close my eyes and I never say | |
I' m still having dreams | |
And on the worst days | |
When it feels like life weighs ten thousand tonnes | |
I sleep with my passport | |
One eye on the back door | |
So I can always run | |
I can get up, shower and in half an hour | |
I' d be gone | |
And come morning | |
I am disappeared | |
Just an imprint | |
On the bed sheets | |
And by the roadside | |
With my thumb out | |
A car pulls up | |
And Bob' s driving | |
So I climb in | |
We don' t say a word | |
As we pull off | |
Into the sunrise | |
And these rivers | |
Of tarmac | |
Are like arteries | |
' Cross the country | |
We are blood cells | |
Alive in | |
The blood stream | |
And beating heart of the country | |
We are electric | |
Pulses | |
In pathways | |
Of the sleeping soul of the country | |
We are electric | |
Pulses | |
In the pathway | |
Of the sleeping soul of the country | |
We are electric |