Love Is Enough 歌词

	作词 : Henry
	Lincoln Street is howling
	It's empty, growing colder,
	The night has come on limping and
	It's bleeding from the shoulder.
	Headlights fake a prison break
	Of snow that rages and dies,
	It's lost its will upon this hill
	As one time so did I.
	But here comes everybody-
	The rounders and the nuns,
	The poets sweeping sleeper cars,
	The butcher and his sons;
	Here comes the restitution
	We'd all but given up,
	This evening we're content believing
	That love will be enough.
	Air is what I need
	But I try to breathe you in,
	Thinking I can get at what I must
	Beneath your skin.
	Your veins are humming wire
	Rushing fire to your face,
	I feel it flush against my own,
	A pulse that I can taste.
	And here comes everybody-
	The tyrant and his crew,
	His most loyal traitors
	And they whisper this to you:
	Here comes the restitution
	You'd all but given up,
	This evening we're content believing
	That love will be enough.
	The fire escape is folded
	Like the cradle of an arm,
	Our dread so deep we've learned to keep it
	Near without alarm.
	But every fear is like the prayer
	You've learned to shout out loud,
	From your lips to God's ear
	It turns the face of every crowd.
	And here comes everybody-
	The closet renegades,
	The weary, hungry soldiers
	From the children's lost crusade.
	Here comes the restitution
	We'd all but given up,
	This evening we’re content believing
	That love will be enough.

	zuo ci : Henry
	Lincoln Street is howling
	It' s empty, growing colder,
	The night has come on limping and
	It' s bleeding from the shoulder.
	Headlights fake a prison break
	Of snow that rages and dies,
	It' s lost its will upon this hill
	As one time so did I.
	But here comes everybody
	The rounders and the nuns,
	The poets sweeping sleeper cars,
	The butcher and his sons
	Here comes the restitution
	We' d all but given up,
	This evening we' re content believing
	That love will be enough.
	Air is what I need
	But I try to breathe you in,
	Thinking I can get at what I must
	Beneath your skin.
	Your veins are humming wire
	Rushing fire to your face,
	I feel it flush against my own,
	A pulse that I can taste.
	And here comes everybody
	The tyrant and his crew,
	His most loyal traitors
	And they whisper this to you:
	Here comes the restitution
	You' d all but given up,
	This evening we' re content believing
	That love will be enough.
	The fire escape is folded
	Like the cradle of an arm,
	Our dread so deep we' ve learned to keep it
	Near without alarm.
	But every fear is like the prayer
	You' ve learned to shout out loud,
	From your lips to God' s ear
	It turns the face of every crowd.
	And here comes everybody
	The closet renegades,
	The weary, hungry soldiers
	From the children' s lost crusade.
	Here comes the restitution
	We' d all but given up,
	This evening we' re content believing
	That love will be enough.

	zuò cí : Henry
	Lincoln Street is howling
	It' s empty, growing colder,
	The night has come on limping and
	It' s bleeding from the shoulder.
	Headlights fake a prison break
	Of snow that rages and dies,
	It' s lost its will upon this hill
	As one time so did I.
	But here comes everybody
	The rounders and the nuns,
	The poets sweeping sleeper cars,
	The butcher and his sons
	Here comes the restitution
	We' d all but given up,
	This evening we' re content believing
	That love will be enough.
	Air is what I need
	But I try to breathe you in,
	Thinking I can get at what I must
	Beneath your skin.
	Your veins are humming wire
	Rushing fire to your face,
	I feel it flush against my own,
	A pulse that I can taste.
	And here comes everybody
	The tyrant and his crew,
	His most loyal traitors
	And they whisper this to you:
	Here comes the restitution
	You' d all but given up,
	This evening we' re content believing
	That love will be enough.
	The fire escape is folded
	Like the cradle of an arm,
	Our dread so deep we' ve learned to keep it
	Near without alarm.
	But every fear is like the prayer
	You' ve learned to shout out loud,
	From your lips to God' s ear
	It turns the face of every crowd.
	And here comes everybody
	The closet renegades,
	The weary, hungry soldiers
	From the children' s lost crusade.
	Here comes the restitution
	We' d all but given up,
	This evening we' re content believing
	That love will be enough.

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