Worry Too Much 歌词
| 歌曲 | Worry Too Much |
| 歌手 | Buddy Miller |
| 专辑 | Universal United House of Prayer |
| 下载 | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Heard | |
| (Mark Heard) | |
| it's the demolition derby | |
| it's the sport of the hunt | |
| proud tribe in full war-dance | |
| it's the slow smile that the bully gives the runt | |
| it's the force of inertia | |
| it's the lack of constraint | |
| it's the children out playing in the rock garden | |
| all dolled-up in black hats and war paint | |
| sometimes it feels like bars of steel | |
| i cannot bend with my hands | |
| oh - i worry too much | |
| somebody told me that i worry too much | |
| it's these sandpaper eyes | |
| it's the way they rub the luster from what is seen | |
| it's the way we tell ourselves that all these things are normal | |
| till we can't remember what we mean | |
| it's the flicker of our flames | |
| it's the friction born of living | |
| it's the way we beat a hot retreat | |
| and heave our smoking guns into the river | |
| sometimes it feels like bars of steel | |
| i cannot bend with my hands | |
| oh - i worry too much | |
| somebody told me that i worry too much | |
| it's the quick-step march of history | |
| the vanity of nations | |
| it's the way there'll be no muffled drums | |
| to mark the passage of my generation | |
| it's the children of my children | |
| it's the lambs born in innocence | |
| it's wondering if the good i know | |
| will last to be seen by the eyes of the little ones |
| zuo qu : Heard | |
| Mark Heard | |
| it' s the demolition derby | |
| it' s the sport of the hunt | |
| proud tribe in full wardance | |
| it' s the slow smile that the bully gives the runt | |
| it' s the force of inertia | |
| it' s the lack of constraint | |
| it' s the children out playing in the rock garden | |
| all dolledup in black hats and war paint | |
| sometimes it feels like bars of steel | |
| i cannot bend with my hands | |
| oh i worry too much | |
| somebody told me that i worry too much | |
| it' s these sandpaper eyes | |
| it' s the way they rub the luster from what is seen | |
| it' s the way we tell ourselves that all these things are normal | |
| till we can' t remember what we mean | |
| it' s the flicker of our flames | |
| it' s the friction born of living | |
| it' s the way we beat a hot retreat | |
| and heave our smoking guns into the river | |
| sometimes it feels like bars of steel | |
| i cannot bend with my hands | |
| oh i worry too much | |
| somebody told me that i worry too much | |
| it' s the quickstep march of history | |
| the vanity of nations | |
| it' s the way there' ll be no muffled drums | |
| to mark the passage of my generation | |
| it' s the children of my children | |
| it' s the lambs born in innocence | |
| it' s wondering if the good i know | |
| will last to be seen by the eyes of the little ones |
| zuò qǔ : Heard | |
| Mark Heard | |
| it' s the demolition derby | |
| it' s the sport of the hunt | |
| proud tribe in full wardance | |
| it' s the slow smile that the bully gives the runt | |
| it' s the force of inertia | |
| it' s the lack of constraint | |
| it' s the children out playing in the rock garden | |
| all dolledup in black hats and war paint | |
| sometimes it feels like bars of steel | |
| i cannot bend with my hands | |
| oh i worry too much | |
| somebody told me that i worry too much | |
| it' s these sandpaper eyes | |
| it' s the way they rub the luster from what is seen | |
| it' s the way we tell ourselves that all these things are normal | |
| till we can' t remember what we mean | |
| it' s the flicker of our flames | |
| it' s the friction born of living | |
| it' s the way we beat a hot retreat | |
| and heave our smoking guns into the river | |
| sometimes it feels like bars of steel | |
| i cannot bend with my hands | |
| oh i worry too much | |
| somebody told me that i worry too much | |
| it' s the quickstep march of history | |
| the vanity of nations | |
| it' s the way there' ll be no muffled drums | |
| to mark the passage of my generation | |
| it' s the children of my children | |
| it' s the lambs born in innocence | |
| it' s wondering if the good i know | |
| will last to be seen by the eyes of the little ones |
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