歌曲 | This Strange Engine |
歌手 | Marillion |
专辑 | Live At High Voltage Festival 2010 |
下载 | Image LRC TXT |
作词 : Hogarth, Kelly, Mosley ... | |
Lyrics:Steve Hogarth Music:Marillion | |
There was a boy who came into this world at | |
the hands of a holy woman in a holy place | |
He wore a red coat and walked a bulldog-saw | |
them reflected in the mirror of the lakes | |
Lived in the shadow of the mountains with the smells of disinfectant, | |
dusty old leather and the polished wood of his bed | |
No more than a baby feeding swans on | |
the river holding the hands of his mother, | |
and the wax paperbag of yesterdays bread | |
And his father on the other side of the world | |
On the ships railings and some far away tide | |
With the silent dry tear of home thoughts from abroad in his far away eyes | |
In his far away eyes | |
The smell of the wax on the wooden floor | |
Mixture of polish and soap | |
No children to fear or to play with | |
Rows of empty hooks for the coats | |
An upright piano and the boys in the choir | |
Still remind him of just before he was born | |
Remind him of just before he was breathing | |
Strange misty visions of god | |
Turn the cities into families | |
Into villages of souls | |
Hovering in the air while they're sleeping | |
With their houses invisible | |
Running as fast as i could run | |
Send to me the ghosts of christmas | |
Whispering: "you're the only one" | |
And ever since i was a boy | |
I never felt that i belonged | |
Like everything they did to me | |
Was an experiment to see | |
How i would cope with the illusion | |
In which direction would i jump | |
Would i do it all the same | |
As the actors in the game | |
Or would i spit it back at them | |
And not get caught up in their rules | |
And live according to my own | |
And not be used, and not be used | |
To find the fundamental truths | |
It was going to take some time | |
Thirty five summers down the line | |
The wisdom of each passing year | |
Seems to serve only to confuse | |
Seems to serve only to confuse | |
Daddy came out the navy and took us away to his dirty gray home town | |
And he worked down on a coal mine for national service so that he could be around | |
There was a magical purple in the chrome of the exhaust of his triumph motor bike | |
And a warmth of oil and metal and the thrill of the hard corner holding tight | |
From the horizon | |
Came home from the navy to the mine | |
From the horizon | |
To buried alive | |
Took his dream underground | |
Buried his treasure in his far away eyes | |
And one day as the boy lay sleeping in the sunshine of a half remembered afternoon | |
A cloud of bees with no particular aim, and no brain | |
Found the boy, decided that his time had come | |
Came down out of the sky | |
Stung him in the face | |
Again and again | |
Blue pain | |
Screaming like baptism | |
Intraveinous, jesus | |
Like being chosen | |
Something with no brain | |
Blue pain from something with no brain | |
I can't explain | |
It's happening again | |
Oh mummy, daddy, will you sit a while with me | |
Oh mummy, daddy, will you jog my memory | |
Tell me tall tales of montego bay, table mountain, flying fish, banana spiders, pots of paint | |
And the sun on the equator | |
Setting like an ember thrown to deep water | |
From crimson to black | |
But coming back | |
Tomorrow on the horizon | |
The blue pain | |
Fades to a point where it doesn't fade | |
It stayed | |
Blue | |
Stirred his red coat heart to this strange engine | |
This love | |
This love | |
This inconvenient, blind, blood-diamond | |
This puzzle | |
This love | |
This blind | |
Blood-diamond | |
This puzzle | |
I don't understand | |
That knows no faith | |
And tries and fails | |
And tries again | |
Stares at the sea | |
The night's dark deep | |
For one last time | |
And bleeds | |
And bleeds | |
And dies for you | |
And lies | |
And is to blame | |
And is ashamed | |
And is not the same | |
This truth | |
This truth | |
This truth | |
This truth | |
And lies | |
And is to blame | |
And is ashamed | |
And is true |
zuo ci : Hogarth, Kelly, Mosley ... | |
Lyrics: Steve Hogarth Music: Marillion | |
There was a boy who came into this world at | |
the hands of a holy woman in a holy place | |
He wore a red coat and walked a bulldogsaw | |
them reflected in the mirror of the lakes | |
Lived in the shadow of the mountains with the smells of disinfectant, | |
dusty old leather and the polished wood of his bed | |
No more than a baby feeding swans on | |
the river holding the hands of his mother, | |
and the wax paperbag of yesterdays bread | |
And his father on the other side of the world | |
On the ships railings and some far away tide | |
With the silent dry tear of home thoughts from abroad in his far away eyes | |
In his far away eyes | |
The smell of the wax on the wooden floor | |
Mixture of polish and soap | |
No children to fear or to play with | |
Rows of empty hooks for the coats | |
An upright piano and the boys in the choir | |
Still remind him of just before he was born | |
Remind him of just before he was breathing | |
Strange misty visions of god | |
Turn the cities into families | |
Into villages of souls | |
Hovering in the air while they' re sleeping | |
With their houses invisible | |
Running as fast as i could run | |
Send to me the ghosts of christmas | |
Whispering: " you' re the only one" | |
And ever since i was a boy | |
I never felt that i belonged | |
Like everything they did to me | |
Was an experiment to see | |
How i would cope with the illusion | |
In which direction would i jump | |
Would i do it all the same | |
As the actors in the game | |
Or would i spit it back at them | |
And not get caught up in their rules | |
And live according to my own | |
And not be used, and not be used | |
To find the fundamental truths | |
It was going to take some time | |
Thirty five summers down the line | |
The wisdom of each passing year | |
Seems to serve only to confuse | |
Seems to serve only to confuse | |
Daddy came out the navy and took us away to his dirty gray home town | |
And he worked down on a coal mine for national service so that he could be around | |
There was a magical purple in the chrome of the exhaust of his triumph motor bike | |
And a warmth of oil and metal and the thrill of the hard corner holding tight | |
From the horizon | |
Came home from the navy to the mine | |
From the horizon | |
To buried alive | |
Took his dream underground | |
Buried his treasure in his far away eyes | |
And one day as the boy lay sleeping in the sunshine of a half remembered afternoon | |
A cloud of bees with no particular aim, and no brain | |
Found the boy, decided that his time had come | |
Came down out of the sky | |
Stung him in the face | |
Again and again | |
Blue pain | |
Screaming like baptism | |
Intraveinous, jesus | |
Like being chosen | |
Something with no brain | |
Blue pain from something with no brain | |
I can' t explain | |
It' s happening again | |
Oh mummy, daddy, will you sit a while with me | |
Oh mummy, daddy, will you jog my memory | |
Tell me tall tales of montego bay, table mountain, flying fish, banana spiders, pots of paint | |
And the sun on the equator | |
Setting like an ember thrown to deep water | |
From crimson to black | |
But coming back | |
Tomorrow on the horizon | |
The blue pain | |
Fades to a point where it doesn' t fade | |
It stayed | |
Blue | |
Stirred his red coat heart to this strange engine | |
This love | |
This love | |
This inconvenient, blind, blooddiamond | |
This puzzle | |
This love | |
This blind | |
Blooddiamond | |
This puzzle | |
I don' t understand | |
That knows no faith | |
And tries and fails | |
And tries again | |
Stares at the sea | |
The night' s dark deep | |
For one last time | |
And bleeds | |
And bleeds | |
And dies for you | |
And lies | |
And is to blame | |
And is ashamed | |
And is not the same | |
This truth | |
This truth | |
This truth | |
This truth | |
And lies | |
And is to blame | |
And is ashamed | |
And is true |
zuò cí : Hogarth, Kelly, Mosley ... | |
Lyrics: Steve Hogarth Music: Marillion | |
There was a boy who came into this world at | |
the hands of a holy woman in a holy place | |
He wore a red coat and walked a bulldogsaw | |
them reflected in the mirror of the lakes | |
Lived in the shadow of the mountains with the smells of disinfectant, | |
dusty old leather and the polished wood of his bed | |
No more than a baby feeding swans on | |
the river holding the hands of his mother, | |
and the wax paperbag of yesterdays bread | |
And his father on the other side of the world | |
On the ships railings and some far away tide | |
With the silent dry tear of home thoughts from abroad in his far away eyes | |
In his far away eyes | |
The smell of the wax on the wooden floor | |
Mixture of polish and soap | |
No children to fear or to play with | |
Rows of empty hooks for the coats | |
An upright piano and the boys in the choir | |
Still remind him of just before he was born | |
Remind him of just before he was breathing | |
Strange misty visions of god | |
Turn the cities into families | |
Into villages of souls | |
Hovering in the air while they' re sleeping | |
With their houses invisible | |
Running as fast as i could run | |
Send to me the ghosts of christmas | |
Whispering: " you' re the only one" | |
And ever since i was a boy | |
I never felt that i belonged | |
Like everything they did to me | |
Was an experiment to see | |
How i would cope with the illusion | |
In which direction would i jump | |
Would i do it all the same | |
As the actors in the game | |
Or would i spit it back at them | |
And not get caught up in their rules | |
And live according to my own | |
And not be used, and not be used | |
To find the fundamental truths | |
It was going to take some time | |
Thirty five summers down the line | |
The wisdom of each passing year | |
Seems to serve only to confuse | |
Seems to serve only to confuse | |
Daddy came out the navy and took us away to his dirty gray home town | |
And he worked down on a coal mine for national service so that he could be around | |
There was a magical purple in the chrome of the exhaust of his triumph motor bike | |
And a warmth of oil and metal and the thrill of the hard corner holding tight | |
From the horizon | |
Came home from the navy to the mine | |
From the horizon | |
To buried alive | |
Took his dream underground | |
Buried his treasure in his far away eyes | |
And one day as the boy lay sleeping in the sunshine of a half remembered afternoon | |
A cloud of bees with no particular aim, and no brain | |
Found the boy, decided that his time had come | |
Came down out of the sky | |
Stung him in the face | |
Again and again | |
Blue pain | |
Screaming like baptism | |
Intraveinous, jesus | |
Like being chosen | |
Something with no brain | |
Blue pain from something with no brain | |
I can' t explain | |
It' s happening again | |
Oh mummy, daddy, will you sit a while with me | |
Oh mummy, daddy, will you jog my memory | |
Tell me tall tales of montego bay, table mountain, flying fish, banana spiders, pots of paint | |
And the sun on the equator | |
Setting like an ember thrown to deep water | |
From crimson to black | |
But coming back | |
Tomorrow on the horizon | |
The blue pain | |
Fades to a point where it doesn' t fade | |
It stayed | |
Blue | |
Stirred his red coat heart to this strange engine | |
This love | |
This love | |
This inconvenient, blind, blooddiamond | |
This puzzle | |
This love | |
This blind | |
Blooddiamond | |
This puzzle | |
I don' t understand | |
That knows no faith | |
And tries and fails | |
And tries again | |
Stares at the sea | |
The night' s dark deep | |
For one last time | |
And bleeds | |
And bleeds | |
And dies for you | |
And lies | |
And is to blame | |
And is ashamed | |
And is not the same | |
This truth | |
This truth | |
This truth | |
This truth | |
And lies | |
And is to blame | |
And is ashamed | |
And is true |