Words Of Fire, Deeds Of Blood 歌词

歌曲	Words Of Fire, Deeds Of Blood
歌手	Robbie Robertson
专辑	Music For The Native Americans
下载	Image LRC TXT

	作词 : Robertson
	Perhaps you think the creator has sent you here to dispose of us as you see fit
	If I thought you were sent by the creator
	I might be induced to think you had a right to dispose of me
	Do not misunderstand me
	But understand me fully with reference to my affection for the land
	I never said the land was mine to do with as I choose
	The one who has a right to dispose of it is the one who has created it
	I claim a right to live on my land
	And accord you the previlege to return to yours
	Brother we have listened to your talk
	Coming from our father the great White Chief at Washington
	And my people have called upon me to reply to you
	And in the winds which pass through these aged pines
	We hear the moanings of their departed ghosts
	And if the voice of our people could have been heard
	That act would never have been done
	But alas though they stood around they could neither be seen nor heard
	Their tears fell like drops of rain
	I hear my voice in the depths of the forest
	But no answering voice comes back to me
	All is silent around me
	My words therefore must be few
	I can now say no more
	He is silent for he has nothing to answer when the sun goes down

	zuo ci : Robertson
	Perhaps you think the creator has sent you here to dispose of us as you see fit
	If I thought you were sent by the creator
	I might be induced to think you had a right to dispose of me
	Do not misunderstand me
	But understand me fully with reference to my affection for the land
	I never said the land was mine to do with as I choose
	The one who has a right to dispose of it is the one who has created it
	I claim a right to live on my land
	And accord you the previlege to return to yours
	Brother we have listened to your talk
	Coming from our father the great White Chief at Washington
	And my people have called upon me to reply to you
	And in the winds which pass through these aged pines
	We hear the moanings of their departed ghosts
	And if the voice of our people could have been heard
	That act would never have been done
	But alas though they stood around they could neither be seen nor heard
	Their tears fell like drops of rain
	I hear my voice in the depths of the forest
	But no answering voice comes back to me
	All is silent around me
	My words therefore must be few
	I can now say no more
	He is silent for he has nothing to answer when the sun goes down

	zuò cí : Robertson
	Perhaps you think the creator has sent you here to dispose of us as you see fit
	If I thought you were sent by the creator
	I might be induced to think you had a right to dispose of me
	Do not misunderstand me
	But understand me fully with reference to my affection for the land
	I never said the land was mine to do with as I choose
	The one who has a right to dispose of it is the one who has created it
	I claim a right to live on my land
	And accord you the previlege to return to yours
	Brother we have listened to your talk
	Coming from our father the great White Chief at Washington
	And my people have called upon me to reply to you
	And in the winds which pass through these aged pines
	We hear the moanings of their departed ghosts
	And if the voice of our people could have been heard
	That act would never have been done
	But alas though they stood around they could neither be seen nor heard
	Their tears fell like drops of rain
	I hear my voice in the depths of the forest
	But no answering voice comes back to me
	All is silent around me
	My words therefore must be few
	I can now say no more
	He is silent for he has nothing to answer when the sun goes down

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