| 歌曲 | Wolf Party |
| 歌手 | The Blood Brothers |
| 专辑 | Crimes |
| 下载 | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Blood Brothers | |
| Those Wolf Mechanics. | |
| Those Wolf Mechancis. | |
| Today you beat the fortune teller | |
| to death with your bare hands. | |
| Was it his smirk.. Laugh.. | |
| Or the ostrich feather taped to his purple hat? | |
| He read the lines on your palm. | |
| Chanting a creole song. | |
| "It is soon you will die, | |
| and angels don't take bribes." | |
| Don't linger on the sight... | |
| you smashed until your hands stop... | |
| Just run back to the alley. | |
| Tell jokes to the bricks and rats. | |
| Because one man's murder scene, | |
| is another champagne party. | |
| One man's murdered spine, | |
| is a soldier's war decoration. | |
| Those wolf mechanics! | |
| Flare up again. | |
| As you make your way back to the financial district. | |
| The subway is a numb field. | |
| And every dazed boy and girl makes you lick your lips. | |
| And the girl with the accordion, chewing grass like a lamb. | |
| She hands you the juicy eye | |
| and then she laughs at your pathetic tie. | |
| Don't linger. On the grin you gouged in her throat. | |
| Just take the subway home. | |
| But the wife and kids twinkle like stuffed dogs. | |
| And you're like. The stormy ocean now, | |
| collecting death like driftwood. | |
| Those wolf mechanics banging. | |
| Those wolf mechanics crashing. | |
| But one man's suicide | |
| Is a credit company's bride. | |
| One man's poisoned mind | |
| Is a pharmaceutical gold mine. | |
| You bring your kill | |
| from the savannah. And bake it in the sun. | |
| But the heat wraps it's flesh. | |
| And you see the face of God in the tarry mess. | |
| Those wolf mechanics banging. | |
| Those wolf mechanics crashing. |
| zuo qu : Blood Brothers | |
| Those Wolf Mechanics. | |
| Those Wolf Mechancis. | |
| Today you beat the fortune teller | |
| to death with your bare hands. | |
| Was it his smirk.. Laugh.. | |
| Or the ostrich feather taped to his purple hat? | |
| He read the lines on your palm. | |
| Chanting a creole song. | |
| " It is soon you will die, | |
| and angels don' t take bribes." | |
| Don' t linger on the sight... | |
| you smashed until your hands stop... | |
| Just run back to the alley. | |
| Tell jokes to the bricks and rats. | |
| Because one man' s murder scene, | |
| is another champagne party. | |
| One man' s murdered spine, | |
| is a soldier' s war decoration. | |
| Those wolf mechanics! | |
| Flare up again. | |
| As you make your way back to the financial district. | |
| The subway is a numb field. | |
| And every dazed boy and girl makes you lick your lips. | |
| And the girl with the accordion, chewing grass like a lamb. | |
| She hands you the juicy eye | |
| and then she laughs at your pathetic tie. | |
| Don' t linger. On the grin you gouged in her throat. | |
| Just take the subway home. | |
| But the wife and kids twinkle like stuffed dogs. | |
| And you' re like. The stormy ocean now, | |
| collecting death like driftwood. | |
| Those wolf mechanics banging. | |
| Those wolf mechanics crashing. | |
| But one man' s suicide | |
| Is a credit company' s bride. | |
| One man' s poisoned mind | |
| Is a pharmaceutical gold mine. | |
| You bring your kill | |
| from the savannah. And bake it in the sun. | |
| But the heat wraps it' s flesh. | |
| And you see the face of God in the tarry mess. | |
| Those wolf mechanics banging. | |
| Those wolf mechanics crashing. |
| zuò qǔ : Blood Brothers | |
| Those Wolf Mechanics. | |
| Those Wolf Mechancis. | |
| Today you beat the fortune teller | |
| to death with your bare hands. | |
| Was it his smirk.. Laugh.. | |
| Or the ostrich feather taped to his purple hat? | |
| He read the lines on your palm. | |
| Chanting a creole song. | |
| " It is soon you will die, | |
| and angels don' t take bribes." | |
| Don' t linger on the sight... | |
| you smashed until your hands stop... | |
| Just run back to the alley. | |
| Tell jokes to the bricks and rats. | |
| Because one man' s murder scene, | |
| is another champagne party. | |
| One man' s murdered spine, | |
| is a soldier' s war decoration. | |
| Those wolf mechanics! | |
| Flare up again. | |
| As you make your way back to the financial district. | |
| The subway is a numb field. | |
| And every dazed boy and girl makes you lick your lips. | |
| And the girl with the accordion, chewing grass like a lamb. | |
| She hands you the juicy eye | |
| and then she laughs at your pathetic tie. | |
| Don' t linger. On the grin you gouged in her throat. | |
| Just take the subway home. | |
| But the wife and kids twinkle like stuffed dogs. | |
| And you' re like. The stormy ocean now, | |
| collecting death like driftwood. | |
| Those wolf mechanics banging. | |
| Those wolf mechanics crashing. | |
| But one man' s suicide | |
| Is a credit company' s bride. | |
| One man' s poisoned mind | |
| Is a pharmaceutical gold mine. | |
| You bring your kill | |
| from the savannah. And bake it in the sun. | |
| But the heat wraps it' s flesh. | |
| And you see the face of God in the tarry mess. | |
| Those wolf mechanics banging. | |
| Those wolf mechanics crashing. |