Grand Idea 歌词

歌曲	Grand Idea
歌手	Ghost Dog
专辑	First Book Of Samuel
下载	Image LRC TXT

	Living ´cross the border from yourself.
	Went for a dive without air at the moment you moved here.
	Emigrating seemed a grand idea
	but now you've landed so hard that you cannot see what's where.
	In the race against yourself, the needle's picking up the steam
	when you discuss it with yourself, you always wind up disagreeing.
	And from it lighting up your path, it's gone to greasing up the beam for a fall.
	Now your memoirs, it seems, are smoothly ghosted by a scream
	built from a feeling, to a whisper to the signs you didn't heed.
	Left you bereft of energy, you cannot write, you cannot read them no more.
	30.000 days to smithereens.
	The wall came wrapped in a plan, cloaked in hope and a smokescreen.
	Blurry how this new state came to be
	like the transitional glimpse between a smell and a memory.
	In the race against yourself, the needle's picking up the steam
	when you discuss it with yourself, you always wind up disagreeing.
	And from it lighting up your path, it's gone to greasing up the beam for a fall.
	Now your memoirs, it seems, are smoothly ghosted by a scream
	built from a feeling, to a whisper to the signs you didn't heed.
	Left you bereft of energy, you cannot write, you cannot read them no more.
	Living ´cross the border from yourself.
	Went for a dive without air at the moment you moved here.
	Emigrating seemed a grand idea
	but now you've landed so hard that you cannot see what's where.
	30.000 days to smithereens.
	The wall came wrapped in a plan, cloaked in hope and a smokescreen.
	Blurry how this new state came to be
	like the transitional glimpse between a smell and a memory.

	Living cross the border from yourself.
	Went for a dive without air at the moment you moved here.
	Emigrating seemed a grand idea
	but now you' ve landed so hard that you cannot see what' s where.
	In the race against yourself, the needle' s picking up the steam
	when you discuss it with yourself, you always wind up disagreeing.
	And from it lighting up your path, it' s gone to greasing up the beam for a fall.
	Now your memoirs, it seems, are smoothly ghosted by a scream
	built from a feeling, to a whisper to the signs you didn' t heed.
	Left you bereft of energy, you cannot write, you cannot read them no more.
	30. 000 days to smithereens.
	The wall came wrapped in a plan, cloaked in hope and a smokescreen.
	Blurry how this new state came to be
	like the transitional glimpse between a smell and a memory.
	In the race against yourself, the needle' s picking up the steam
	when you discuss it with yourself, you always wind up disagreeing.
	And from it lighting up your path, it' s gone to greasing up the beam for a fall.
	Now your memoirs, it seems, are smoothly ghosted by a scream
	built from a feeling, to a whisper to the signs you didn' t heed.
	Left you bereft of energy, you cannot write, you cannot read them no more.
	Living cross the border from yourself.
	Went for a dive without air at the moment you moved here.
	Emigrating seemed a grand idea
	but now you' ve landed so hard that you cannot see what' s where.
	30. 000 days to smithereens.
	The wall came wrapped in a plan, cloaked in hope and a smokescreen.
	Blurry how this new state came to be
	like the transitional glimpse between a smell and a memory.

	Living cross the border from yourself.
	Went for a dive without air at the moment you moved here.
	Emigrating seemed a grand idea
	but now you' ve landed so hard that you cannot see what' s where.
	In the race against yourself, the needle' s picking up the steam
	when you discuss it with yourself, you always wind up disagreeing.
	And from it lighting up your path, it' s gone to greasing up the beam for a fall.
	Now your memoirs, it seems, are smoothly ghosted by a scream
	built from a feeling, to a whisper to the signs you didn' t heed.
	Left you bereft of energy, you cannot write, you cannot read them no more.
	30. 000 days to smithereens.
	The wall came wrapped in a plan, cloaked in hope and a smokescreen.
	Blurry how this new state came to be
	like the transitional glimpse between a smell and a memory.
	In the race against yourself, the needle' s picking up the steam
	when you discuss it with yourself, you always wind up disagreeing.
	And from it lighting up your path, it' s gone to greasing up the beam for a fall.
	Now your memoirs, it seems, are smoothly ghosted by a scream
	built from a feeling, to a whisper to the signs you didn' t heed.
	Left you bereft of energy, you cannot write, you cannot read them no more.
	Living cross the border from yourself.
	Went for a dive without air at the moment you moved here.
	Emigrating seemed a grand idea
	but now you' ve landed so hard that you cannot see what' s where.
	30. 000 days to smithereens.
	The wall came wrapped in a plan, cloaked in hope and a smokescreen.
	Blurry how this new state came to be
	like the transitional glimpse between a smell and a memory.

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