Cold As The Clay 歌词

	作曲 : Graffin
	Whispers of ancients buried by dust,
	Echoes of ages in canyons of rust,
	Is heaven so lonely?
	I'll know soon enough
	Cold as the clay, dark as a mine,
	Wasting away blood, sweat, and grime
	Panning for gold, picking for dimes, lying in wait for better times
	The tools of the trade lie shopworn and old
	The skills of the master done died with his soul
	And the worklike routine is so lonely and cold
	Cold as the clay, dark as the mine,
	Wasting away, blood, sweat and grime,
	Panning for gold, picking for dimes, lying in wait for better times
	The land was converted, the river was moved,
	The village expanded, some say it's improved,
	But the lingering feature is a grim attitude
	Cold as the clay, dark as the mine,
	Wasting away, blood, sweat and grime,
	Panning for gold, picking for dimes, lying in wait for better times

	zuo qu : Graffin
	Whispers of ancients buried by dust,
	Echoes of ages in canyons of rust,
	Is heaven so lonely?
	I' ll know soon enough
	Cold as the clay, dark as a mine,
	Wasting away blood, sweat, and grime
	Panning for gold, picking for dimes, lying in wait for better times
	The tools of the trade lie shopworn and old
	The skills of the master done died with his soul
	And the worklike routine is so lonely and cold
	Cold as the clay, dark as the mine,
	Wasting away, blood, sweat and grime,
	Panning for gold, picking for dimes, lying in wait for better times
	The land was converted, the river was moved,
	The village expanded, some say it' s improved,
	But the lingering feature is a grim attitude
	Cold as the clay, dark as the mine,
	Wasting away, blood, sweat and grime,
	Panning for gold, picking for dimes, lying in wait for better times

	zuò qǔ : Graffin
	Whispers of ancients buried by dust,
	Echoes of ages in canyons of rust,
	Is heaven so lonely?
	I' ll know soon enough
	Cold as the clay, dark as a mine,
	Wasting away blood, sweat, and grime
	Panning for gold, picking for dimes, lying in wait for better times
	The tools of the trade lie shopworn and old
	The skills of the master done died with his soul
	And the worklike routine is so lonely and cold
	Cold as the clay, dark as the mine,
	Wasting away, blood, sweat and grime,
	Panning for gold, picking for dimes, lying in wait for better times
	The land was converted, the river was moved,
	The village expanded, some say it' s improved,
	But the lingering feature is a grim attitude
	Cold as the clay, dark as the mine,
	Wasting away, blood, sweat and grime,
	Panning for gold, picking for dimes, lying in wait for better times

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