歌曲 | Witchwood |
歌手 | The Strawbs |
专辑 | From the Witchwood |
下载 | Image LRC TXT |
作词 : Cousins | |
I dropped down in the witchwood | |
To see what I could find | |
The trees had taken time out | |
To blow away my mind | |
All that I could hear there | |
Was the sound of my own voice | |
But the music it was making | |
Was nothing of my choice. | |
The interwoven branches | |
Were laden deep with snow | |
A rainbow shone so softly | |
To show which way to go | |
I observed its many colours | |
Till my eyes were rimmed with frost | |
I tried hard to trace my footsteps | |
For I feared I might get lost. | |
The witchwood started singing | |
With a strange unearthly sound | |
My fingers grew like branches | |
I stood rooted to the ground | |
And the spell is still unbroken | |
I am still her bidden slave | |
Till a casket from the witchwood | |
Bears my body to the grave |
zuo ci : Cousins | |
I dropped down in the witchwood | |
To see what I could find | |
The trees had taken time out | |
To blow away my mind | |
All that I could hear there | |
Was the sound of my own voice | |
But the music it was making | |
Was nothing of my choice. | |
The interwoven branches | |
Were laden deep with snow | |
A rainbow shone so softly | |
To show which way to go | |
I observed its many colours | |
Till my eyes were rimmed with frost | |
I tried hard to trace my footsteps | |
For I feared I might get lost. | |
The witchwood started singing | |
With a strange unearthly sound | |
My fingers grew like branches | |
I stood rooted to the ground | |
And the spell is still unbroken | |
I am still her bidden slave | |
Till a casket from the witchwood | |
Bears my body to the grave |
zuò cí : Cousins | |
I dropped down in the witchwood | |
To see what I could find | |
The trees had taken time out | |
To blow away my mind | |
All that I could hear there | |
Was the sound of my own voice | |
But the music it was making | |
Was nothing of my choice. | |
The interwoven branches | |
Were laden deep with snow | |
A rainbow shone so softly | |
To show which way to go | |
I observed its many colours | |
Till my eyes were rimmed with frost | |
I tried hard to trace my footsteps | |
For I feared I might get lost. | |
The witchwood started singing | |
With a strange unearthly sound | |
My fingers grew like branches | |
I stood rooted to the ground | |
And the spell is still unbroken | |
I am still her bidden slave | |
Till a casket from the witchwood | |
Bears my body to the grave |