歌曲 | Blind River Boy |
歌手 | Amy Correia |
专辑 | Carnival Love |
下载 | Image LRC TXT |
作曲 : Correia | |
There was a blind boy in | |
Memphis, Tennessee | |
Who heard the savior call but he could not see him | |
He walked along the river's edge | |
Among the weeds and the red clay bed | |
And he thought that he might follow him | |
Thought that he might follow him | |
He was walking with a can of warm beer in his hand | |
And singing, “ | |
Whole Lotta | |
Love” Cicadas they were groaning in the trees | |
Weaving drunkenly up toward the sun | |
And he walked under the swollen sky | |
And felt the weight of what it was | |
Oh blind river boy | |
Blind river boy | |
Where are you going to tonight | |
He had a thought that he might stop and rest | |
Under the weeping willow limbs | |
And he decided to go wading | |
And he left his boots and hat there on the ledge | |
And he found his feet out walking | |
Where the water bloomed a brilliant red chorus | |
He went into his waist and the water curled around him in a wake | |
All the water singing ‘round him | |
What a lovely sound the water makes what a lovely sound the water makes | |
Tenderly lifted like a woman in her lover's gentle arms | |
The river pulled him under and he heard a tugboat far off call | |
And a panic rose inside of him he knew he was in terrible terrible harm | |
And now he's headed like a prayer to be spoken at the river's deepest sound chorus |
zuo qu : Correia | |
There was a blind boy in | |
Memphis, Tennessee | |
Who heard the savior call but he could not see him | |
He walked along the river' s edge | |
Among the weeds and the red clay bed | |
And he thought that he might follow him | |
Thought that he might follow him | |
He was walking with a can of warm beer in his hand | |
And singing, " | |
Whole Lotta | |
Love" Cicadas they were groaning in the trees | |
Weaving drunkenly up toward the sun | |
And he walked under the swollen sky | |
And felt the weight of what it was | |
Oh blind river boy | |
Blind river boy | |
Where are you going to tonight | |
He had a thought that he might stop and rest | |
Under the weeping willow limbs | |
And he decided to go wading | |
And he left his boots and hat there on the ledge | |
And he found his feet out walking | |
Where the water bloomed a brilliant red chorus | |
He went into his waist and the water curled around him in a wake | |
All the water singing ' round him | |
What a lovely sound the water makes what a lovely sound the water makes | |
Tenderly lifted like a woman in her lover' s gentle arms | |
The river pulled him under and he heard a tugboat far off call | |
And a panic rose inside of him he knew he was in terrible terrible harm | |
And now he' s headed like a prayer to be spoken at the river' s deepest sound chorus |
zuò qǔ : Correia | |
There was a blind boy in | |
Memphis, Tennessee | |
Who heard the savior call but he could not see him | |
He walked along the river' s edge | |
Among the weeds and the red clay bed | |
And he thought that he might follow him | |
Thought that he might follow him | |
He was walking with a can of warm beer in his hand | |
And singing, " | |
Whole Lotta | |
Love" Cicadas they were groaning in the trees | |
Weaving drunkenly up toward the sun | |
And he walked under the swollen sky | |
And felt the weight of what it was | |
Oh blind river boy | |
Blind river boy | |
Where are you going to tonight | |
He had a thought that he might stop and rest | |
Under the weeping willow limbs | |
And he decided to go wading | |
And he left his boots and hat there on the ledge | |
And he found his feet out walking | |
Where the water bloomed a brilliant red chorus | |
He went into his waist and the water curled around him in a wake | |
All the water singing ' round him | |
What a lovely sound the water makes what a lovely sound the water makes | |
Tenderly lifted like a woman in her lover' s gentle arms | |
The river pulled him under and he heard a tugboat far off call | |
And a panic rose inside of him he knew he was in terrible terrible harm | |
And now he' s headed like a prayer to be spoken at the river' s deepest sound chorus |