歌曲 | Rash of Robberies |
歌手 | State Radio |
专辑 | Year of the Crow |
作曲 : State Radio | |
Solarium malaria lookin' for the stereo. | |
Wanted to save being excommunicated from the area. | |
A it's ok. | |
In the city she said he cut a cord of wood, | |
No bigger than thimble but still plenty good. | |
A it's ok. ' | |
Cause it's just a bump on a rash of robberies. | |
On account of the world economy that's makin' us sick. | |
Go get the man who said he's on to me, | |
He thinks we're in the kitchen with our sticks. | |
But he don't know that | |
Paris is burnin' down, | |
You'd never know it in this town. | |
The governor's walkin' around like he's got tricks for you. | |
Catch as Casius never become the killing machine. | |
Run him over ruff shod 'til he bleeds army green out. | |
So devout to the saint that lost his seat he never seen, | |
Semi-automatic rosary out devout. ' | |
Cause it's just a bump on a rash of robberies. | |
In a world too sad for | |
Solomon we just sit. | |
I'll watch your economy, | |
I'll tell you when the police have it fixed. | |
Paris is burnin' down, | |
You'd never know it in this town. | |
The governor's walkin' around like he's got tricks for you. | |
So take a minute to laugh it over, | |
We'll make sure it's all true, | |
Just like she said, | |
Behind the barn last | |
December eve. | |
Baby falls 40 feet caught by a street cleaner coming home from the union hall, | |
He saw the fall. | |
A it's ok. | |
JP Sousa found a radio, a radio. | |
Sousa found a place to go, | |
A radio in his head that said. | |
It's just a bump on a rash of robberies, | |
An old sand lot anomaly that's savin' this day. | |
In a world too sad for sodomy | |
We're just sitting in the kitchen with our stray. | |
But Paris is burnin' down, | |
Governors are walkin' around, | |
We'll make sure that they do right by you. | |
So you think you might go to | |
Beatrice, | |
Even though the letter was never found. | |
Maybe it will come tomorrow noon. | |
She is askin' her fallen saint to | |
Please return her straitlaced fighter | |
Who don't know who she is, he don't know who she is. | |
Where are you my sweet | |
Desmond Doss, | |
Have you softly gone to winter? | |
Here I've brought you your two two dollar bills back. | |
But I'm not waiting for sweet | |
Eliza. She can have her water colors back, | |
I found them on last | |
December eve. | |
You look strangely quite so familiar, | |
The way you talk of suppertime but | |
I don't know who she is, | |
Don't know who she is. | |
And you, you bring this beloved stranger. | |
At the foot of this pile on | |
Gideon's bed, | |
She gave me a needlepoint motorbike. | |
So go and take this to sweet | |
Eliza, It was written and gently given to | |
The courier pending arrival soon. | |
Could you hold me just one more older | |
Then I'll go as your fallen fighter | |
Waiting at the door, can't see you any more? | |
Here my dear a sweet | |
Nostrovia, | |
In a letter sent to | |
December, | |
I will wait for you to just humble me home. |
zuò qǔ : State Radio | |
Solarium malaria lookin' for the stereo. | |
Wanted to save being excommunicated from the area. | |
A it' s ok. | |
In the city she said he cut a cord of wood, | |
No bigger than thimble but still plenty good. | |
A it' s ok. ' | |
Cause it' s just a bump on a rash of robberies. | |
On account of the world economy that' s makin' us sick. | |
Go get the man who said he' s on to me, | |
He thinks we' re in the kitchen with our sticks. | |
But he don' t know that | |
Paris is burnin' down, | |
You' d never know it in this town. | |
The governor' s walkin' around like he' s got tricks for you. | |
Catch as Casius never become the killing machine. | |
Run him over ruff shod ' til he bleeds army green out. | |
So devout to the saint that lost his seat he never seen, | |
Semiautomatic rosary out devout. ' | |
Cause it' s just a bump on a rash of robberies. | |
In a world too sad for | |
Solomon we just sit. | |
I' ll watch your economy, | |
I' ll tell you when the police have it fixed. | |
Paris is burnin' down, | |
You' d never know it in this town. | |
The governor' s walkin' around like he' s got tricks for you. | |
So take a minute to laugh it over, | |
We' ll make sure it' s all true, | |
Just like she said, | |
Behind the barn last | |
December eve. | |
Baby falls 40 feet caught by a street cleaner coming home from the union hall, | |
He saw the fall. | |
A it' s ok. | |
JP Sousa found a radio, a radio. | |
Sousa found a place to go, | |
A radio in his head that said. | |
It' s just a bump on a rash of robberies, | |
An old sand lot anomaly that' s savin' this day. | |
In a world too sad for sodomy | |
We' re just sitting in the kitchen with our stray. | |
But Paris is burnin' down, | |
Governors are walkin' around, | |
We' ll make sure that they do right by you. | |
So you think you might go to | |
Beatrice, | |
Even though the letter was never found. | |
Maybe it will come tomorrow noon. | |
She is askin' her fallen saint to | |
Please return her straitlaced fighter | |
Who don' t know who she is, he don' t know who she is. | |
Where are you my sweet | |
Desmond Doss, | |
Have you softly gone to winter? | |
Here I' ve brought you your two two dollar bills back. | |
But I' m not waiting for sweet | |
Eliza. She can have her water colors back, | |
I found them on last | |
December eve. | |
You look strangely quite so familiar, | |
The way you talk of suppertime but | |
I don' t know who she is, | |
Don' t know who she is. | |
And you, you bring this beloved stranger. | |
At the foot of this pile on | |
Gideon' s bed, | |
She gave me a needlepoint motorbike. | |
So go and take this to sweet | |
Eliza, It was written and gently given to | |
The courier pending arrival soon. | |
Could you hold me just one more older | |
Then I' ll go as your fallen fighter | |
Waiting at the door, can' t see you any more? | |
Here my dear a sweet | |
Nostrovia, | |
In a letter sent to | |
December, | |
I will wait for you to just humble me home. |