作曲 : Cohen, Ogg, Sketch, Smyth ... | |
You let in the ghost of her | |
Now I see it everywhere | |
Take your body back | |
But oh oh please leave me the fear | |
Loneliness is in the air | |
Even the birds are in pairs | |
I can hear it in their peeping | |
oh what a feeling | |
And I get the strangest feeling | |
When I float up to the ceiling | |
All the blubbering and moans come | |
From my body down below | |
They'll come in twos | |
Follow when I lean my tomb | |
I can hear it in their peeping | |
Oh what a feeling | |
They'll take whatever they want | |
And they'll have whatever they want | |
And they'll take whatever they want | |
Swing a broom, bat them out | |
And they'll have whatever they want | |
Trash can lids aren't shields enough | |
And they'll come whenever they want | |
At quiet times, times for us | |
and they'll come whenever they want |
zuo qu : Cohen, Ogg, Sketch, Smyth ... | |
You let in the ghost of her | |
Now I see it everywhere | |
Take your body back | |
But oh oh please leave me the fear | |
Loneliness is in the air | |
Even the birds are in pairs | |
I can hear it in their peeping | |
oh what a feeling | |
And I get the strangest feeling | |
When I float up to the ceiling | |
All the blubbering and moans come | |
From my body down below | |
They' ll come in twos | |
Follow when I lean my tomb | |
I can hear it in their peeping | |
Oh what a feeling | |
They' ll take whatever they want | |
And they' ll have whatever they want | |
And they' ll take whatever they want | |
Swing a broom, bat them out | |
And they' ll have whatever they want | |
Trash can lids aren' t shields enough | |
And they' ll come whenever they want | |
At quiet times, times for us | |
and they' ll come whenever they want |
zuò qǔ : Cohen, Ogg, Sketch, Smyth ... | |
You let in the ghost of her | |
Now I see it everywhere | |
Take your body back | |
But oh oh please leave me the fear | |
Loneliness is in the air | |
Even the birds are in pairs | |
I can hear it in their peeping | |
oh what a feeling | |
And I get the strangest feeling | |
When I float up to the ceiling | |
All the blubbering and moans come | |
From my body down below | |
They' ll come in twos | |
Follow when I lean my tomb | |
I can hear it in their peeping | |
Oh what a feeling | |
They' ll take whatever they want | |
And they' ll have whatever they want | |
And they' ll take whatever they want | |
Swing a broom, bat them out | |
And they' ll have whatever they want | |
Trash can lids aren' t shields enough | |
And they' ll come whenever they want | |
At quiet times, times for us | |
and they' ll come whenever they want |