歌词网

The Shining Hour

	作词 : Phillips
	Are we still on the phone
	With the lady anna clarke and her trumpet solo
	Whose ghost sings for pay
	In the blue billiard room of the monterey
	For room and for board
	And the backdoor key is a 19th century civil war sword
	Once owned by john booth
	Who misplaced his script wen he caught his leather boot
	This could be the shining hour
	Based on all those mad beliefs
	In the money oil and angel powder
	In the new age magazine
	There's a hole in the wall
	Behind the photograph of al capone he's a sittin' down at city hall
	The police they peek thru here
	And they watch you get dressed in the two-way mirror
	But it's all in good spirits
	And if you close your eyes ya can't help help but to hear 'em move
	This could be the shining hour
	Based on all those mad beliefs
	In the money oil and angel powder
	In the new age magazine
	I propose a toast
	To the memory of the horse who carried king tut and his gold
	Into the sun
	He collapsed last summer from the heat stroke somewhere in the east village oh
	It kills me to think
	That i'm no longer living just looking for excuses to drink
	So lift up your glass
	And you ouija board 'cause i'm fading fading fading fast
	This could be the shining hour
	Based on all those mad beliefs
	In the money oil and angel powder
	In the new age magazine

	zuò cí : Phillips
	Are we still on the phone
	With the lady anna clarke and her trumpet solo
	Whose ghost sings for pay
	In the blue billiard room of the monterey
	For room and for board
	And the backdoor key is a 19th century civil war sword
	Once owned by john booth
	Who misplaced his script wen he caught his leather boot
	This could be the shining hour
	Based on all those mad beliefs
	In the money oil and angel powder
	In the new age magazine
	There' s a hole in the wall
	Behind the photograph of al capone he' s a sittin' down at city hall
	The police they peek thru here
	And they watch you get dressed in the twoway mirror
	But it' s all in good spirits
	And if you close your eyes ya can' t help help but to hear ' em move
	This could be the shining hour
	Based on all those mad beliefs
	In the money oil and angel powder
	In the new age magazine
	I propose a toast
	To the memory of the horse who carried king tut and his gold
	Into the sun
	He collapsed last summer from the heat stroke somewhere in the east village oh
	It kills me to think
	That i' m no longer living just looking for excuses to drink
	So lift up your glass
	And you ouija board ' cause i' m fading fading fading fast
	This could be the shining hour
	Based on all those mad beliefs
	In the money oil and angel powder
	In the new age magazine