歌曲 | You Haven't Found It Yet |
歌手 | The Fall |
专辑 | Shift-Work |
下载 | Image LRC TXT |
作词 : Scanlon, Smith | |
You haven't found it yet, | |
Haven't found it yet. | |
Look at the glass, turn your head | |
You haven't found it yet. | |
Moving down the lane inside | |
It's flashy camden town | |
It's that london lyric again | |
You haven't found it yet. | |
Impulses crowd your head | |
Too much to be absorbed | |
You're into the top shackle | |
Mental saw-down of your head.* | |
Which bemoans a simple fact. | |
You haven't found it yet. | |
It seemed so clear in bed | |
It's dark but your legs, they are dead | |
Your pen is encombed in mattress | |
You're not going to get it yet | |
You haven't found it yet | |
You're dying but still warm | |
Put this writing on your tomb | |
Spit out with dying breath | |
You haven't found it yet. | |
I dictate | |
Transcribe | |
Relations | |
Dear cousin | |
It's destiny. | |
The grist that curtails the mill | |
Shall make us strong |
zuo ci : Scanlon, Smith | |
You haven' t found it yet, | |
Haven' t found it yet. | |
Look at the glass, turn your head | |
You haven' t found it yet. | |
Moving down the lane inside | |
It' s flashy camden town | |
It' s that london lyric again | |
You haven' t found it yet. | |
Impulses crowd your head | |
Too much to be absorbed | |
You' re into the top shackle | |
Mental sawdown of your head. | |
Which bemoans a simple fact. | |
You haven' t found it yet. | |
It seemed so clear in bed | |
It' s dark but your legs, they are dead | |
Your pen is encombed in mattress | |
You' re not going to get it yet | |
You haven' t found it yet | |
You' re dying but still warm | |
Put this writing on your tomb | |
Spit out with dying breath | |
You haven' t found it yet. | |
I dictate | |
Transcribe | |
Relations | |
Dear cousin | |
It' s destiny. | |
The grist that curtails the mill | |
Shall make us strong |
zuò cí : Scanlon, Smith | |
You haven' t found it yet, | |
Haven' t found it yet. | |
Look at the glass, turn your head | |
You haven' t found it yet. | |
Moving down the lane inside | |
It' s flashy camden town | |
It' s that london lyric again | |
You haven' t found it yet. | |
Impulses crowd your head | |
Too much to be absorbed | |
You' re into the top shackle | |
Mental sawdown of your head. | |
Which bemoans a simple fact. | |
You haven' t found it yet. | |
It seemed so clear in bed | |
It' s dark but your legs, they are dead | |
Your pen is encombed in mattress | |
You' re not going to get it yet | |
You haven' t found it yet | |
You' re dying but still warm | |
Put this writing on your tomb | |
Spit out with dying breath | |
You haven' t found it yet. | |
I dictate | |
Transcribe | |
Relations | |
Dear cousin | |
It' s destiny. | |
The grist that curtails the mill | |
Shall make us strong |