歌曲 | Freedom Park |
歌手 | Marah |
专辑 | 20,000 Streets Under the Sky |
下载 | Image LRC TXT |
作曲 : Bielanko, Bielanko | |
Broken bottles, broken glass | |
$5 baggies on the ground | |
And the evening sky rising high above | |
This forgotten place we found | |
Sirens wail back in the canyons | |
We fled here to escape | |
And I hold your hand and feel you shiver | |
As the winter swirls around your face | |
On this January Sunday | |
We watch the airplanes fly away | |
As they rise up from the airport | |
Above the Meadowlands Highway | |
See their reflections in the river | |
Sliding by us cool and dark | |
Like tiny silver fish | |
They ride the current wish | |
Away from Freedom Park | |
CHORUS | |
Someday someday | |
We're gonna look down | |
Upon this strip of cold concrete | |
And remember, remember, remember the sound | |
Of broken bottles beneath our feet | |
As we crash through heaven's tollbooth | |
In our fleeting getaway car | |
And pick apart this town | |
Until we're looking down into this Freedom Park | |
We share a Milky Way in quiet | |
As we walk out past the spot | |
Where there used to be a swing set | |
Where a little girl got shot | |
I know you're thinkin about your brother, Richard, too | |
I wish we could bring him back | |
As the wind toots on a liquor bottle | |
Inside a paper sack | |
"Now put your gloves on girl," you hear me say | |
My arm slippin around your waist | |
"Its cold as hell" I hear me say | |
As the dusk becomes this place | |
Then we're listenin' to a fading jet | |
Slip up into the dark | |
And without a word we turn around | |
And walk outta Freedom Park | |
CHORUS |
zuo qu : Bielanko, Bielanko | |
Broken bottles, broken glass | |
5 baggies on the ground | |
And the evening sky rising high above | |
This forgotten place we found | |
Sirens wail back in the canyons | |
We fled here to escape | |
And I hold your hand and feel you shiver | |
As the winter swirls around your face | |
On this January Sunday | |
We watch the airplanes fly away | |
As they rise up from the airport | |
Above the Meadowlands Highway | |
See their reflections in the river | |
Sliding by us cool and dark | |
Like tiny silver fish | |
They ride the current wish | |
Away from Freedom Park | |
CHORUS | |
Someday someday | |
We' re gonna look down | |
Upon this strip of cold concrete | |
And remember, remember, remember the sound | |
Of broken bottles beneath our feet | |
As we crash through heaven' s tollbooth | |
In our fleeting getaway car | |
And pick apart this town | |
Until we' re looking down into this Freedom Park | |
We share a Milky Way in quiet | |
As we walk out past the spot | |
Where there used to be a swing set | |
Where a little girl got shot | |
I know you' re thinkin about your brother, Richard, too | |
I wish we could bring him back | |
As the wind toots on a liquor bottle | |
Inside a paper sack | |
" Now put your gloves on girl," you hear me say | |
My arm slippin around your waist | |
" Its cold as hell" I hear me say | |
As the dusk becomes this place | |
Then we' re listenin' to a fading jet | |
Slip up into the dark | |
And without a word we turn around | |
And walk outta Freedom Park | |
CHORUS |
zuò qǔ : Bielanko, Bielanko | |
Broken bottles, broken glass | |
5 baggies on the ground | |
And the evening sky rising high above | |
This forgotten place we found | |
Sirens wail back in the canyons | |
We fled here to escape | |
And I hold your hand and feel you shiver | |
As the winter swirls around your face | |
On this January Sunday | |
We watch the airplanes fly away | |
As they rise up from the airport | |
Above the Meadowlands Highway | |
See their reflections in the river | |
Sliding by us cool and dark | |
Like tiny silver fish | |
They ride the current wish | |
Away from Freedom Park | |
CHORUS | |
Someday someday | |
We' re gonna look down | |
Upon this strip of cold concrete | |
And remember, remember, remember the sound | |
Of broken bottles beneath our feet | |
As we crash through heaven' s tollbooth | |
In our fleeting getaway car | |
And pick apart this town | |
Until we' re looking down into this Freedom Park | |
We share a Milky Way in quiet | |
As we walk out past the spot | |
Where there used to be a swing set | |
Where a little girl got shot | |
I know you' re thinkin about your brother, Richard, too | |
I wish we could bring him back | |
As the wind toots on a liquor bottle | |
Inside a paper sack | |
" Now put your gloves on girl," you hear me say | |
My arm slippin around your waist | |
" Its cold as hell" I hear me say | |
As the dusk becomes this place | |
Then we' re listenin' to a fading jet | |
Slip up into the dark | |
And without a word we turn around | |
And walk outta Freedom Park | |
CHORUS |