| 作词 : Henry | |
| If anybody asks what's new | |
| I say, "not much," and it's mostly true, | |
| But when my stars align with you | |
| Then I will write my book. | |
| I turn my face from all the rage | |
| Playing on a grim, dark stage, | |
| But you've shown me an open page | |
| And I will write my book. | |
| I have no time for what inclines | |
| Their rhyme or broken reason; | |
| The world is ruthless, shrewdly blind, | |
| My oath to them is treason... | |
| I'd never claim that what I'd heard | |
| Was the first wave or the last word, | |
| But your heart beneath my hand just stirred | |
| And I will write my book. | |
| I have no time for what inclines | |
| Their crimes on every season; | |
| The world is truthless, shrewdly kind, | |
| My oath to them is treason... | |
| I have no words to turn the tide | |
| -Lights go out, and worlds collide- | |
| But by your candle hopes abide | |
| And there I'll write my book, | |
| By your candle hopes abide | |
| And there I'll write my book. |
| zuo ci : Henry | |
| If anybody asks what' s new | |
| I say, " not much," and it' s mostly true, | |
| But when my stars align with you | |
| Then I will write my book. | |
| I turn my face from all the rage | |
| Playing on a grim, dark stage, | |
| But you' ve shown me an open page | |
| And I will write my book. | |
| I have no time for what inclines | |
| Their rhyme or broken reason | |
| The world is ruthless, shrewdly blind, | |
| My oath to them is treason... | |
| I' d never claim that what I' d heard | |
| Was the first wave or the last word, | |
| But your heart beneath my hand just stirred | |
| And I will write my book. | |
| I have no time for what inclines | |
| Their crimes on every season | |
| The world is truthless, shrewdly kind, | |
| My oath to them is treason... | |
| I have no words to turn the tide | |
| Lights go out, and worlds collide | |
| But by your candle hopes abide | |
| And there I' ll write my book, | |
| By your candle hopes abide | |
| And there I' ll write my book. |
| zuò cí : Henry | |
| If anybody asks what' s new | |
| I say, " not much," and it' s mostly true, | |
| But when my stars align with you | |
| Then I will write my book. | |
| I turn my face from all the rage | |
| Playing on a grim, dark stage, | |
| But you' ve shown me an open page | |
| And I will write my book. | |
| I have no time for what inclines | |
| Their rhyme or broken reason | |
| The world is ruthless, shrewdly blind, | |
| My oath to them is treason... | |
| I' d never claim that what I' d heard | |
| Was the first wave or the last word, | |
| But your heart beneath my hand just stirred | |
| And I will write my book. | |
| I have no time for what inclines | |
| Their crimes on every season | |
| The world is truthless, shrewdly kind, | |
| My oath to them is treason... | |
| I have no words to turn the tide | |
| Lights go out, and worlds collide | |
| But by your candle hopes abide | |
| And there I' ll write my book, | |
| By your candle hopes abide | |
| And there I' ll write my book. |
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