歌曲 | Glass And The Ghost Children |
歌手 | The Smashing Pumpkins |
专辑 | Machina / The Machines Of God |
下载 | Image LRC TXT |
作词 : Corgan | |
Lyrics:Billy Corgan Music:Billy Corgan | |
To the center of the Earth | |
Or anywhere God decides | |
For the fever pulling forth | |
We hear our call as all | |
To the center of the Earth | |
As if written in | |
DNA is reaching out | |
To your frequency | |
I want to live | |
Don't want to die | |
I want to live | |
I want to try | |
All in prayer | |
Prayer in all | |
All are scared | |
Scared of all | |
Black rooms are calling | |
To men in leather coats | |
White labs are cooking | |
Up the silver ghost | |
The glass migrates under | |
A translucent skin | |
And all the spiders wonder | |
What we've got us in | |
All is you | |
You are to die | |
I want to live | |
I want to try | |
(interlude starts) | |
So, it's all very obtuse | |
Because it's all like, like, I don't know | |
So, like, I started thinking | |
That everything I operate on | |
Is based on what I believe god | |
Was telling me to do | |
God could be my intuition or whatever | |
But I always assume | |
I always assume that the voice | |
I hear is the voice of god | |
Then I started thinking | |
What if I'm insane | |
So I'm operating on the premise | |
That I'm hearing the voice of god | |
Or what I perceive to be | |
God speaking to me | |
Or through me | |
But maybe I'm completely in... | |
So all my... | |
Demagoguery in my life about me | |
Thinking that my life has importance | |
My, my.. | |
Thinking that my life has importance | |
My, my, my thought of it | |
and the fact that I believe | |
That I'm following my intuition | |
Which in and of itself | |
May be completely false | |
So then I started freaking out thinking... | |
Of itself may be completely false | |
And again this creature | |
That believes that he's acting upon | |
Heavenly intuition, | |
But meanwhile he's totally rampant | |
And I started thinking | |
Maybe this is the cause | |
Of all the negativity against... | |
And I started thinking | |
Maybe this is the cause | |
Of all the negativity against... | |
And I started thinking | |
Maybe this is the cause | |
Of all the negativity against... | |
(interlude ends) | |
So beats the final coda | |
Of a vinyl storm | |
One more cherry cola | |
To lift up our dead arm | |
A dream of soft focus sunsets | |
Filters through the din | |
We are losing contact | |
As she dials it in | |
She can hear glass calling | |
Or is it someone that looks like him? | |
She eyes TV reflection | |
And nods a knowing look | |
She says it doesn't matter | |
She never liked her looks | |
I have seen a thousand fractures | |
I have seen everything | |
Cause knowing is its own answer | |
Love something in a book | |
There's not much left to ponder | |
Not much left to cook | |
As she counted the spiders | |
As they crawled up inside her | |
As she counted the spiders | |
As they crawled up inside her | |
As she counted the spiders | |
As they crawled up inside her | |
As she counted the spiders | |
As they crawled up inside her | |
As she counted the spiders, oh |
zuo ci : Corgan | |
Lyrics: Billy Corgan Music: Billy Corgan | |
To the center of the Earth | |
Or anywhere God decides | |
For the fever pulling forth | |
We hear our call as all | |
To the center of the Earth | |
As if written in | |
DNA is reaching out | |
To your frequency | |
I want to live | |
Don' t want to die | |
I want to live | |
I want to try | |
All in prayer | |
Prayer in all | |
All are scared | |
Scared of all | |
Black rooms are calling | |
To men in leather coats | |
White labs are cooking | |
Up the silver ghost | |
The glass migrates under | |
A translucent skin | |
And all the spiders wonder | |
What we' ve got us in | |
All is you | |
You are to die | |
I want to live | |
I want to try | |
interlude starts | |
So, it' s all very obtuse | |
Because it' s all like, like, I don' t know | |
So, like, I started thinking | |
That everything I operate on | |
Is based on what I believe god | |
Was telling me to do | |
God could be my intuition or whatever | |
But I always assume | |
I always assume that the voice | |
I hear is the voice of god | |
Then I started thinking | |
What if I' m insane | |
So I' m operating on the premise | |
That I' m hearing the voice of god | |
Or what I perceive to be | |
God speaking to me | |
Or through me | |
But maybe I' m completely in... | |
So all my... | |
Demagoguery in my life about me | |
Thinking that my life has importance | |
My, my.. | |
Thinking that my life has importance | |
My, my, my thought of it | |
and the fact that I believe | |
That I' m following my intuition | |
Which in and of itself | |
May be completely false | |
So then I started freaking out thinking... | |
Of itself may be completely false | |
And again this creature | |
That believes that he' s acting upon | |
Heavenly intuition, | |
But meanwhile he' s totally rampant | |
And I started thinking | |
Maybe this is the cause | |
Of all the negativity against... | |
And I started thinking | |
Maybe this is the cause | |
Of all the negativity against... | |
And I started thinking | |
Maybe this is the cause | |
Of all the negativity against... | |
interlude ends | |
So beats the final coda | |
Of a vinyl storm | |
One more cherry cola | |
To lift up our dead arm | |
A dream of soft focus sunsets | |
Filters through the din | |
We are losing contact | |
As she dials it in | |
She can hear glass calling | |
Or is it someone that looks like him? | |
She eyes TV reflection | |
And nods a knowing look | |
She says it doesn' t matter | |
She never liked her looks | |
I have seen a thousand fractures | |
I have seen everything | |
Cause knowing is its own answer | |
Love something in a book | |
There' s not much left to ponder | |
Not much left to cook | |
As she counted the spiders | |
As they crawled up inside her | |
As she counted the spiders | |
As they crawled up inside her | |
As she counted the spiders | |
As they crawled up inside her | |
As she counted the spiders | |
As they crawled up inside her | |
As she counted the spiders, oh |
zuò cí : Corgan | |
Lyrics: Billy Corgan Music: Billy Corgan | |
To the center of the Earth | |
Or anywhere God decides | |
For the fever pulling forth | |
We hear our call as all | |
To the center of the Earth | |
As if written in | |
DNA is reaching out | |
To your frequency | |
I want to live | |
Don' t want to die | |
I want to live | |
I want to try | |
All in prayer | |
Prayer in all | |
All are scared | |
Scared of all | |
Black rooms are calling | |
To men in leather coats | |
White labs are cooking | |
Up the silver ghost | |
The glass migrates under | |
A translucent skin | |
And all the spiders wonder | |
What we' ve got us in | |
All is you | |
You are to die | |
I want to live | |
I want to try | |
interlude starts | |
So, it' s all very obtuse | |
Because it' s all like, like, I don' t know | |
So, like, I started thinking | |
That everything I operate on | |
Is based on what I believe god | |
Was telling me to do | |
God could be my intuition or whatever | |
But I always assume | |
I always assume that the voice | |
I hear is the voice of god | |
Then I started thinking | |
What if I' m insane | |
So I' m operating on the premise | |
That I' m hearing the voice of god | |
Or what I perceive to be | |
God speaking to me | |
Or through me | |
But maybe I' m completely in... | |
So all my... | |
Demagoguery in my life about me | |
Thinking that my life has importance | |
My, my.. | |
Thinking that my life has importance | |
My, my, my thought of it | |
and the fact that I believe | |
That I' m following my intuition | |
Which in and of itself | |
May be completely false | |
So then I started freaking out thinking... | |
Of itself may be completely false | |
And again this creature | |
That believes that he' s acting upon | |
Heavenly intuition, | |
But meanwhile he' s totally rampant | |
And I started thinking | |
Maybe this is the cause | |
Of all the negativity against... | |
And I started thinking | |
Maybe this is the cause | |
Of all the negativity against... | |
And I started thinking | |
Maybe this is the cause | |
Of all the negativity against... | |
interlude ends | |
So beats the final coda | |
Of a vinyl storm | |
One more cherry cola | |
To lift up our dead arm | |
A dream of soft focus sunsets | |
Filters through the din | |
We are losing contact | |
As she dials it in | |
She can hear glass calling | |
Or is it someone that looks like him? | |
She eyes TV reflection | |
And nods a knowing look | |
She says it doesn' t matter | |
She never liked her looks | |
I have seen a thousand fractures | |
I have seen everything | |
Cause knowing is its own answer | |
Love something in a book | |
There' s not much left to ponder | |
Not much left to cook | |
As she counted the spiders | |
As they crawled up inside her | |
As she counted the spiders | |
As they crawled up inside her | |
As she counted the spiders | |
As they crawled up inside her | |
As she counted the spiders | |
As they crawled up inside her | |
As she counted the spiders, oh |