| 歌曲 | Stalagmites |
| 歌手 | The Cribs |
| 专辑 | In The Belly Of The Brazen Bull |
| 作曲 : the cribs | |
| 作词 : the cribs | |
| We stand here in ceremonial dress, | |
| With a knife in the garter. | |
| Like the love you never get to feel, | |
| This is the fame of the martyr. | |
| You are the | |
| California smile, | |
| You're the cake decorator. “ | |
| He has this plan which is keep doing exactly what it is you're doing and somehow everything's going to be alright. | |
| And I was like, | |
| I'm growing stalagmites, | |
| I' don't want to be here anymore. | |
| So I guess we're going to live in this haunted city forever more, | |
| Where the gray creeps through your front door and all the houses look like jack'o'lanterns, exactly the same all stood in a row. | |
| Glowing with the mundanity of an early evening being lived out inside.†| |
| Like the rabbits with ointment in their eyes | |
| Trying to focus in cages. | |
| The lives are lived so what is it? | |
| An hourglass or two faces? | |
| We're only human is our excuse, | |
| Let's just keep blaming nature. | |
| My heart melts less over the years, | |
| Whilst the past rings in my ears. | |
| You are the | |
| California smile, | |
| You're the cake decorator. “ | |
| So if needs be | |
| I'll batter you with unrelenting dignity, | |
| My mouth will be sealed tighter than a nervous clam. | |
| Because all words will be meaningless when you're washed up on the sand. | |
| Try not to think about the future. | |
| Try not to live in the past.†| |
| In the meantime | |
| I'll write down all of these words | |
| And sing songs of being lost then found, | |
| Being loved and lost. |
| zuò qǔ : the cribs | |
| zuò cí : the cribs | |
| We stand here in ceremonial dress, | |
| With a knife in the garter. | |
| Like the love you never get to feel, | |
| This is the fame of the martyr. | |
| You are the | |
| California smile, | |
| You' re the cake decorator. | |
| He has this plan which is keep doing exactly what it is you' re doing and somehow everything' s going to be alright. | |
| And I was like, | |
| I' m growing stalagmites, | |
| I' don' t want to be here anymore. | |
| So I guess we' re going to live in this haunted city forever more, | |
| Where the gray creeps through your front door and all the houses look like jack' o' lanterns, exactly the same all stood in a row. | |
| Glowing with the mundanity of an early evening being lived out inside. | |
| Like the rabbits with ointment in their eyes | |
| Trying to focus in cages. | |
| The lives are lived so what is it? | |
| An hourglass or two faces? | |
| We' re only human is our excuse, | |
| Let' s just keep blaming nature. | |
| My heart melts less over the years, | |
| Whilst the past rings in my ears. | |
| You are the | |
| California smile, | |
| You' re the cake decorator. | |
| So if needs be | |
| I' ll batter you with unrelenting dignity, | |
| My mouth will be sealed tighter than a nervous clam. | |
| Because all words will be meaningless when you' re washed up on the sand. | |
| Try not to think about the future. | |
| Try not to live in the past. | |
| In the meantime | |
| I' ll write down all of these words | |
| And sing songs of being lost then found, | |
| Being loved and lost. |