歌曲 | The Battle of the Boy Least Likely To |
歌手 | The Boy Least Likely To |
专辑 | The Best Party Ever |
下载 | Image LRC TXT |
作曲 : Hobbs, Owen | |
Warm milk and honey | |
Sweeten my teeth. | |
From little acorns you.. | |
You quietly made me.. | |
Made me into me. | |
Paper thin skin stretched | |
Over my bones. | |
From shells and pebbles you.. | |
You quietly made me..? | |
Made me a home. | |
But I can't get used | |
To being alone. | |
And I won't get used | |
To being alone. | |
Under a full moon, | |
Hopelessly trying to | |
Retrace our footsteps in the snow. | |
I don't know when to hang on | |
And when to let go. | |
Foxes in boxes, | |
And butterfly blues. | |
From little acorns you.. | |
You quietly made me.. | |
Made me into you. | |
Holding it under | |
My tounge 'til it stings. | |
From all of my demons | |
You quietly saved me | |
Again and again. | |
But now I feel | |
And surface again. | |
Yes, I can feel | |
And surface again. | |
From little bubbles, | |
Little air bubbles, | |
Little embolysms grow. | |
I don't know to hang on. | |
Everything I feel feels wrong. | |
I don't know when to hang on | |
And when to let go. |
zuo qu : Hobbs, Owen | |
Warm milk and honey | |
Sweeten my teeth. | |
From little acorns you.. | |
You quietly made me.. | |
Made me into me. | |
Paper thin skin stretched | |
Over my bones. | |
From shells and pebbles you.. | |
You quietly made me..? | |
Made me a home. | |
But I can' t get used | |
To being alone. | |
And I won' t get used | |
To being alone. | |
Under a full moon, | |
Hopelessly trying to | |
Retrace our footsteps in the snow. | |
I don' t know when to hang on | |
And when to let go. | |
Foxes in boxes, | |
And butterfly blues. | |
From little acorns you.. | |
You quietly made me.. | |
Made me into you. | |
Holding it under | |
My tounge ' til it stings. | |
From all of my demons | |
You quietly saved me | |
Again and again. | |
But now I feel | |
And surface again. | |
Yes, I can feel | |
And surface again. | |
From little bubbles, | |
Little air bubbles, | |
Little embolysms grow. | |
I don' t know to hang on. | |
Everything I feel feels wrong. | |
I don' t know when to hang on | |
And when to let go. |
zuò qǔ : Hobbs, Owen | |
Warm milk and honey | |
Sweeten my teeth. | |
From little acorns you.. | |
You quietly made me.. | |
Made me into me. | |
Paper thin skin stretched | |
Over my bones. | |
From shells and pebbles you.. | |
You quietly made me..? | |
Made me a home. | |
But I can' t get used | |
To being alone. | |
And I won' t get used | |
To being alone. | |
Under a full moon, | |
Hopelessly trying to | |
Retrace our footsteps in the snow. | |
I don' t know when to hang on | |
And when to let go. | |
Foxes in boxes, | |
And butterfly blues. | |
From little acorns you.. | |
You quietly made me.. | |
Made me into you. | |
Holding it under | |
My tounge ' til it stings. | |
From all of my demons | |
You quietly saved me | |
Again and again. | |
But now I feel | |
And surface again. | |
Yes, I can feel | |
And surface again. | |
From little bubbles, | |
Little air bubbles, | |
Little embolysms grow. | |
I don' t know to hang on. | |
Everything I feel feels wrong. | |
I don' t know when to hang on | |
And when to let go. |