歌曲 | Cane Hill |
歌手 | Anne Clark |
专辑 | The Very Best Of |
下载 | Image LRC TXT |
作曲 : Clark, Harrow | |
Here | |
Upon these ghostly shadows | |
Of men and women | |
There are no smiles | |
Singly | |
They mingle | |
With the greyness of the walls | |
And at strange angles | |
They travel on | |
To nowhere | |
Each a nucleus | |
Of sadness and despair | |
Small | |
Or no conversation | |
Passes their cigarette-stained lips | |
They sit | |
The lonely ones | |
Sitting eternally | |
In institutions | |
That have become their eyes | |
That have become their arms | |
Their legs | |
They are empty now | |
Just shells moving back and forth | |
Upon a shore | |
Of some uncharted beach | |
Up steep green hills | |
They linger | |
Like the darkest thoughts | |
That push themselves | |
Into your mind | |
You cannot question them | |
For they will not answer you | |
They | |
Are our deepest fears. |
zuo qu : Clark, Harrow | |
Here | |
Upon these ghostly shadows | |
Of men and women | |
There are no smiles | |
Singly | |
They mingle | |
With the greyness of the walls | |
And at strange angles | |
They travel on | |
To nowhere | |
Each a nucleus | |
Of sadness and despair | |
Small | |
Or no conversation | |
Passes their cigarettestained lips | |
They sit | |
The lonely ones | |
Sitting eternally | |
In institutions | |
That have become their eyes | |
That have become their arms | |
Their legs | |
They are empty now | |
Just shells moving back and forth | |
Upon a shore | |
Of some uncharted beach | |
Up steep green hills | |
They linger | |
Like the darkest thoughts | |
That push themselves | |
Into your mind | |
You cannot question them | |
For they will not answer you | |
They | |
Are our deepest fears. |
zuò qǔ : Clark, Harrow | |
Here | |
Upon these ghostly shadows | |
Of men and women | |
There are no smiles | |
Singly | |
They mingle | |
With the greyness of the walls | |
And at strange angles | |
They travel on | |
To nowhere | |
Each a nucleus | |
Of sadness and despair | |
Small | |
Or no conversation | |
Passes their cigarettestained lips | |
They sit | |
The lonely ones | |
Sitting eternally | |
In institutions | |
That have become their eyes | |
That have become their arms | |
Their legs | |
They are empty now | |
Just shells moving back and forth | |
Upon a shore | |
Of some uncharted beach | |
Up steep green hills | |
They linger | |
Like the darkest thoughts | |
That push themselves | |
Into your mind | |
You cannot question them | |
For they will not answer you | |
They | |
Are our deepest fears. |