| 作词 : Difford, Tilbrook | |
| (difford/tilbrook) | |
| Donkey talk | |
| I can hear the donkey talk | |
| Words chained out in a line | |
| Loads of reason not much rhyme | |
| Finger drumming beats behind | |
| Donkey talk most of the time | |
| The conversation peters out | |
| So you stare down at your shoes | |
| There's not much more to talk about | |
| When the silence is confused | |
| Then our eyes suddenly meet | |
| And we choose to look away | |
| That's just where we are today | |
| There's no sense in hanging round | |
| But we stand there all the same | |
| You find a verb i pluck a noun | |
| As the patience starts to strain | |
| Then our words suddenly clash | |
| As if there's so much to say | |
| That's just where we are today | |
| We used to stay up all night | |
| With our eyes all bloodshot and wonky | |
| We would hold each other tight | |
| And talk the back legs off a donkey | |
| But now i'm wearing its hat | |
| We can't even laugh at that |
| zuo ci : Difford, Tilbrook | |
| difford tilbrook | |
| Donkey talk | |
| I can hear the donkey talk | |
| Words chained out in a line | |
| Loads of reason not much rhyme | |
| Finger drumming beats behind | |
| Donkey talk most of the time | |
| The conversation peters out | |
| So you stare down at your shoes | |
| There' s not much more to talk about | |
| When the silence is confused | |
| Then our eyes suddenly meet | |
| And we choose to look away | |
| That' s just where we are today | |
| There' s no sense in hanging round | |
| But we stand there all the same | |
| You find a verb i pluck a noun | |
| As the patience starts to strain | |
| Then our words suddenly clash | |
| As if there' s so much to say | |
| That' s just where we are today | |
| We used to stay up all night | |
| With our eyes all bloodshot and wonky | |
| We would hold each other tight | |
| And talk the back legs off a donkey | |
| But now i' m wearing its hat | |
| We can' t even laugh at that |
| zuò cí : Difford, Tilbrook | |
| difford tilbrook | |
| Donkey talk | |
| I can hear the donkey talk | |
| Words chained out in a line | |
| Loads of reason not much rhyme | |
| Finger drumming beats behind | |
| Donkey talk most of the time | |
| The conversation peters out | |
| So you stare down at your shoes | |
| There' s not much more to talk about | |
| When the silence is confused | |
| Then our eyes suddenly meet | |
| And we choose to look away | |
| That' s just where we are today | |
| There' s no sense in hanging round | |
| But we stand there all the same | |
| You find a verb i pluck a noun | |
| As the patience starts to strain | |
| Then our words suddenly clash | |
| As if there' s so much to say | |
| That' s just where we are today | |
| We used to stay up all night | |
| With our eyes all bloodshot and wonky | |
| We would hold each other tight | |
| And talk the back legs off a donkey | |
| But now i' m wearing its hat | |
| We can' t even laugh at that |
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