歌曲 | Warrior |
歌手 | Steve Earle |
专辑 | The Revolution Starts…Now |
下载 | Image LRC TXT |
This is the best time of the day—the dawn | |
The final cleansing breath unsullied yet | |
By acrid fume or death's cacophony | |
The rank refuse of unchained ambition | |
And pray, deny me not but know me now, | |
Your faithful retainer stands resolute | |
To serve his liege lord without recompense | |
Perchance to fall and perish namelessly | |
No flag-draped bier or muffled drum to set | |
The cadence for a final dress parade | |
But it was not always thus—remember? | |
Once you worshipped me and named me a god | |
In many tongues and made offering lest | |
I exact too terrible a tribute | |
Take heed for I am weary, ancient | |
And decrepit now and my time grows short | |
There are no honorable frays to join | |
Only mean death dealt out in dibs and dabs | |
Or horror unleashed from across oceans | |
Assail me not with noble policy | |
For I care not at all for platitude | |
And surrender such tedious detail | |
To greater minds than mine and nimbler tongues | |
Singular in their purpose and resolve | |
And presuming to speak for everyman | |
Oh, for another time, a distant field | |
And there a mortal warrior's lonely grave | |
But duty charges me remain until | |
The end the last battle of the last war | |
Until that ‘morrow render unto me | |
That which is mine my stipend well deserved | |
The fairest flower of your progeny | |
Your sons, your daughters your hopes and your dreams | |
The cruel consequence of your conceit |
This is the best time of the day the dawn | |
The final cleansing breath unsullied yet | |
By acrid fume or death' s cacophony | |
The rank refuse of unchained ambition | |
And pray, deny me not but know me now, | |
Your faithful retainer stands resolute | |
To serve his liege lord without recompense | |
Perchance to fall and perish namelessly | |
No flagdraped bier or muffled drum to set | |
The cadence for a final dress parade | |
But it was not always thus remember? | |
Once you worshipped me and named me a god | |
In many tongues and made offering lest | |
I exact too terrible a tribute | |
Take heed for I am weary, ancient | |
And decrepit now and my time grows short | |
There are no honorable frays to join | |
Only mean death dealt out in dibs and dabs | |
Or horror unleashed from across oceans | |
Assail me not with noble policy | |
For I care not at all for platitude | |
And surrender such tedious detail | |
To greater minds than mine and nimbler tongues | |
Singular in their purpose and resolve | |
And presuming to speak for everyman | |
Oh, for another time, a distant field | |
And there a mortal warrior' s lonely grave | |
But duty charges me remain until | |
The end the last battle of the last war | |
Until that ' morrow render unto me | |
That which is mine my stipend well deserved | |
The fairest flower of your progeny | |
Your sons, your daughters your hopes and your dreams | |
The cruel consequence of your conceit |
This is the best time of the day the dawn | |
The final cleansing breath unsullied yet | |
By acrid fume or death' s cacophony | |
The rank refuse of unchained ambition | |
And pray, deny me not but know me now, | |
Your faithful retainer stands resolute | |
To serve his liege lord without recompense | |
Perchance to fall and perish namelessly | |
No flagdraped bier or muffled drum to set | |
The cadence for a final dress parade | |
But it was not always thus remember? | |
Once you worshipped me and named me a god | |
In many tongues and made offering lest | |
I exact too terrible a tribute | |
Take heed for I am weary, ancient | |
And decrepit now and my time grows short | |
There are no honorable frays to join | |
Only mean death dealt out in dibs and dabs | |
Or horror unleashed from across oceans | |
Assail me not with noble policy | |
For I care not at all for platitude | |
And surrender such tedious detail | |
To greater minds than mine and nimbler tongues | |
Singular in their purpose and resolve | |
And presuming to speak for everyman | |
Oh, for another time, a distant field | |
And there a mortal warrior' s lonely grave | |
But duty charges me remain until | |
The end the last battle of the last war | |
Until that ' morrow render unto me | |
That which is mine my stipend well deserved | |
The fairest flower of your progeny | |
Your sons, your daughters your hopes and your dreams | |
The cruel consequence of your conceit |