Generally More Worried Than Married 歌词

歌曲	Generally More Worried Than Married
歌手	In the Woods...
专辑	Strange in Stereo
下载	Image LRC TXT

	作曲 : In the Woods
	What is addiction with absence of drug
	What is grey without the presence of white
	Days remain hollow with absence of night
	When I fell into my absence and knew
	Not what to do
	I made a can of coffee - smoked a
	Cigarette or two
	This is like a
	Hunger - This day is lake a feast
	A last supper to materialize the
	Wasted, slumbered beast in the closet
	She lives in the attic -
	A floor in between
	My room and the comets -
	Of chaos and dreams
	I'm awaiting the crack of dawn - the smell
	Of morning - where the sound of her
	Footsteps can comfort and cure
	It takes quite a while to get things
	In perspective
	A bleak, coloured tile
	Upon the wall - so pale and objective
	But how would
	I gain from this knowledge
	When I know not where to go

	zuo qu : In the Woods
	What is addiction with absence of drug
	What is grey without the presence of white
	Days remain hollow with absence of night
	When I fell into my absence and knew
	Not what to do
	I made a can of coffee smoked a
	Cigarette or two
	This is like a
	Hunger This day is lake a feast
	A last supper to materialize the
	Wasted, slumbered beast in the closet
	She lives in the attic
	A floor in between
	My room and the comets
	Of chaos and dreams
	I' m awaiting the crack of dawn the smell
	Of morning where the sound of her
	Footsteps can comfort and cure
	It takes quite a while to get things
	In perspective
	A bleak, coloured tile
	Upon the wall so pale and objective
	But how would
	I gain from this knowledge
	When I know not where to go

	zuò qǔ : In the Woods
	What is addiction with absence of drug
	What is grey without the presence of white
	Days remain hollow with absence of night
	When I fell into my absence and knew
	Not what to do
	I made a can of coffee smoked a
	Cigarette or two
	This is like a
	Hunger This day is lake a feast
	A last supper to materialize the
	Wasted, slumbered beast in the closet
	She lives in the attic
	A floor in between
	My room and the comets
	Of chaos and dreams
	I' m awaiting the crack of dawn the smell
	Of morning where the sound of her
	Footsteps can comfort and cure
	It takes quite a while to get things
	In perspective
	A bleak, coloured tile
	Upon the wall so pale and objective
	But how would
	I gain from this knowledge
	When I know not where to go

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