The Humid Press Of Days 歌词
| 歌曲 | The Humid Press Of Days |
| 歌手 | Camper Van Beethoven |
| 专辑 | Key Lime Pie |
| 下载 | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Krummenacher, Lisher, Lowery ... | |
| What did it mean to fly | |
| A tremor in your soul | |
| To resist the dull existence of gravity | |
| Upward bound, trees fly | |
| Two meadows and a fields | |
| And the border is a simple line of hills | |
| Ah, didja come uncoiled | |
| Between heavens and the earth | |
| Whispered nonsense into your radio | |
| Now afternoons you seldom move | |
| Grounded to a little bit of earth | |
| And, after all, time barely crawls | |
| Unoccupied, between each breath it sticks | |
| What did it mean to fly | |
| When you were bound to the earth | |
| A release from the humid press of days | |
| Now afternoons it hardly moves | |
| I wonder how you make it through each day | |
| And, after all, time barely crawls | |
| Unoccupied, between each breath it sticks | |
| What did it mean to fly | |
| A tremor in your soul | |
| To resist the dull existence of gravity | |
| What did it mean to you | |
| An early chat with death | |
| To pull your body for a moment from your soul |
| zuo ci : Krummenacher, Lisher, Lowery ... | |
| What did it mean to fly | |
| A tremor in your soul | |
| To resist the dull existence of gravity | |
| Upward bound, trees fly | |
| Two meadows and a fields | |
| And the border is a simple line of hills | |
| Ah, didja come uncoiled | |
| Between heavens and the earth | |
| Whispered nonsense into your radio | |
| Now afternoons you seldom move | |
| Grounded to a little bit of earth | |
| And, after all, time barely crawls | |
| Unoccupied, between each breath it sticks | |
| What did it mean to fly | |
| When you were bound to the earth | |
| A release from the humid press of days | |
| Now afternoons it hardly moves | |
| I wonder how you make it through each day | |
| And, after all, time barely crawls | |
| Unoccupied, between each breath it sticks | |
| What did it mean to fly | |
| A tremor in your soul | |
| To resist the dull existence of gravity | |
| What did it mean to you | |
| An early chat with death | |
| To pull your body for a moment from your soul |
| zuò cí : Krummenacher, Lisher, Lowery ... | |
| What did it mean to fly | |
| A tremor in your soul | |
| To resist the dull existence of gravity | |
| Upward bound, trees fly | |
| Two meadows and a fields | |
| And the border is a simple line of hills | |
| Ah, didja come uncoiled | |
| Between heavens and the earth | |
| Whispered nonsense into your radio | |
| Now afternoons you seldom move | |
| Grounded to a little bit of earth | |
| And, after all, time barely crawls | |
| Unoccupied, between each breath it sticks | |
| What did it mean to fly | |
| When you were bound to the earth | |
| A release from the humid press of days | |
| Now afternoons it hardly moves | |
| I wonder how you make it through each day | |
| And, after all, time barely crawls | |
| Unoccupied, between each breath it sticks | |
| What did it mean to fly | |
| A tremor in your soul | |
| To resist the dull existence of gravity | |
| What did it mean to you | |
| An early chat with death | |
| To pull your body for a moment from your soul |
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