The High Countries 歌词

	作曲 : McCracken
	A bus station, in the steam from the rain
	In this line of pale strangers, should
	I go or stay?
	The whole field of vision, fades beneath me now
	And the houses spread for a million miles, in this gray town
	And the weight of glory, if you held it in your hand
	It would pass right through you, so now's your chance
	Would you fall to pieces
	Would you fall to pieces
	Would you fall to pieces
	In the high countries?
	We are just pilgrims of the great divorce
	I am witness to the light and
	I am captive to my own remorse
	And the weight of glory, if you held it in your hand
	It would pass right through you, so now's your chance
	You drink the cup to the bottom, but it burns in your hands
	The cup was poured out on the
	Maker instead
	Out on the green plains,
	I am but a ghost
	Bound up with all that
	I call "mine" still the light grows

	zuo qu : McCracken
	A bus station, in the steam from the rain
	In this line of pale strangers, should
	I go or stay?
	The whole field of vision, fades beneath me now
	And the houses spread for a million miles, in this gray town
	And the weight of glory, if you held it in your hand
	It would pass right through you, so now' s your chance
	Would you fall to pieces
	Would you fall to pieces
	Would you fall to pieces
	In the high countries?
	We are just pilgrims of the great divorce
	I am witness to the light and
	I am captive to my own remorse
	And the weight of glory, if you held it in your hand
	It would pass right through you, so now' s your chance
	You drink the cup to the bottom, but it burns in your hands
	The cup was poured out on the
	Maker instead
	Out on the green plains,
	I am but a ghost
	Bound up with all that
	I call " mine" still the light grows

	zuò qǔ : McCracken
	A bus station, in the steam from the rain
	In this line of pale strangers, should
	I go or stay?
	The whole field of vision, fades beneath me now
	And the houses spread for a million miles, in this gray town
	And the weight of glory, if you held it in your hand
	It would pass right through you, so now' s your chance
	Would you fall to pieces
	Would you fall to pieces
	Would you fall to pieces
	In the high countries?
	We are just pilgrims of the great divorce
	I am witness to the light and
	I am captive to my own remorse
	And the weight of glory, if you held it in your hand
	It would pass right through you, so now' s your chance
	You drink the cup to the bottom, but it burns in your hands
	The cup was poured out on the
	Maker instead
	Out on the green plains,
	I am but a ghost
	Bound up with all that
	I call " mine" still the light grows

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