歌曲 | The Great Elsewhere (Son Lux Remix) |
歌手 | Owen Pallett |
专辑 | A Swedish Love Story |
下载 | Image LRC TXT |
作曲 : Owen Pallett | |
作词 : Owen Pallett | |
Talking, what's it good for? | |
Absolutely nothing. | |
Wrestle, let's wrestle. | |
You can pin me to anything. | |
Thought I saw you in my tea leaves. | |
Thought I saw you in a forest flame. | |
I'll fill up the silence with the sound of your holy name. | |
Knowledge of the sea-ways, knowledge of how the water flows. | |
Whoever coined the phrase has never had to brave the snow. | |
I climbed the shroud to the top-sail and I peeked through the glass. | |
The curvature bisected by the wintry mizzen mast. | |
The scar upon my stomach, I call it my Flying V. | |
And every time I show it, I can feel your eyes on me. | |
How many islands will surrender to the blunderbuss? | |
And, how long must we sail before you show your face to us? | |
Followed him out to the end of the pier. | |
"Don't come any closer," he cried, "I am afraid | |
Of the man I'll become if I lay my | |
Life down for a people that I don't even care for." | |
Face to his face, I put my | |
Hand into his and I tried to tell him, "No, | |
I've seen his work upon the panes of cathedrals, | |
In the sweat of the workers and the flight of the seagulls." | |
My words were drowned out by the sound | |
Of the motors and rowers, the ship as it ran aground | |
And from the trees came a thousand soldiers. | |
I went down on my knees with a spear in my shoulder. | |
About face, about face, I swam back | |
To the Victoria. I shiver with the | |
Memory, memory of the island dwellers | |
And the indifferences of the Storyteller. |
zuo qu : Owen Pallett | |
zuo ci : Owen Pallett | |
Talking, what' s it good for? | |
Absolutely nothing. | |
Wrestle, let' s wrestle. | |
You can pin me to anything. | |
Thought I saw you in my tea leaves. | |
Thought I saw you in a forest flame. | |
I' ll fill up the silence with the sound of your holy name. | |
Knowledge of the seaways, knowledge of how the water flows. | |
Whoever coined the phrase has never had to brave the snow. | |
I climbed the shroud to the topsail and I peeked through the glass. | |
The curvature bisected by the wintry mizzen mast. | |
The scar upon my stomach, I call it my Flying V. | |
And every time I show it, I can feel your eyes on me. | |
How many islands will surrender to the blunderbuss? | |
And, how long must we sail before you show your face to us? | |
Followed him out to the end of the pier. | |
" Don' t come any closer," he cried, " I am afraid | |
Of the man I' ll become if I lay my | |
Life down for a people that I don' t even care for." | |
Face to his face, I put my | |
Hand into his and I tried to tell him, " No, | |
I' ve seen his work upon the panes of cathedrals, | |
In the sweat of the workers and the flight of the seagulls." | |
My words were drowned out by the sound | |
Of the motors and rowers, the ship as it ran aground | |
And from the trees came a thousand soldiers. | |
I went down on my knees with a spear in my shoulder. | |
About face, about face, I swam back | |
To the Victoria. I shiver with the | |
Memory, memory of the island dwellers | |
And the indifferences of the Storyteller. |
zuò qǔ : Owen Pallett | |
zuò cí : Owen Pallett | |
Talking, what' s it good for? | |
Absolutely nothing. | |
Wrestle, let' s wrestle. | |
You can pin me to anything. | |
Thought I saw you in my tea leaves. | |
Thought I saw you in a forest flame. | |
I' ll fill up the silence with the sound of your holy name. | |
Knowledge of the seaways, knowledge of how the water flows. | |
Whoever coined the phrase has never had to brave the snow. | |
I climbed the shroud to the topsail and I peeked through the glass. | |
The curvature bisected by the wintry mizzen mast. | |
The scar upon my stomach, I call it my Flying V. | |
And every time I show it, I can feel your eyes on me. | |
How many islands will surrender to the blunderbuss? | |
And, how long must we sail before you show your face to us? | |
Followed him out to the end of the pier. | |
" Don' t come any closer," he cried, " I am afraid | |
Of the man I' ll become if I lay my | |
Life down for a people that I don' t even care for." | |
Face to his face, I put my | |
Hand into his and I tried to tell him, " No, | |
I' ve seen his work upon the panes of cathedrals, | |
In the sweat of the workers and the flight of the seagulls." | |
My words were drowned out by the sound | |
Of the motors and rowers, the ship as it ran aground | |
And from the trees came a thousand soldiers. | |
I went down on my knees with a spear in my shoulder. | |
About face, about face, I swam back | |
To the Victoria. I shiver with the | |
Memory, memory of the island dwellers | |
And the indifferences of the Storyteller. |