08 granduncles 歌词

歌曲	08 granduncles
歌手	Frontier Ruckus
专辑	Eternity Of Dimming
下载	Image LRC TXT

	作词 : Matthew Christopher Milia
	作曲 : Matthew Christopher Milia
	Papa’s standing sort of bovine
	In the shrine of his brother’s room, the priest
	Recently deceased in this North Country heat
	Lunch meat on the kitchen counter
	Mary’s counting bug bites on a sunburned shoulder
	I’m counting sacramental rites and old crucifixes
	All my great-uncles’ nights of cocktail mixes
	Are over
	Then we encounter
	Accidental modern radio hits
	Spits his brother’s boom-box
	From the room walks Papa and then sits
	And then it’s
	Time
	Where the handicap tourist-trap putt-putt courses
	And trailers patched with corrugated scrap metal and divorces
	Stand
	Well, I got a granduncle and he lives inland
	Where the pure manure summer vapors get fanned
	By electric fence whir and a wave of the hand
	Of the Amish infants standing barefoot in the sand
	While the gas-station kids hang out idle and bland
	At the Subway
	Well, him and Anne died down in some dim town
	Where he built a swimming pool into the swampy farm ground
	Where the accumulation of the dimming pounds down
	Since the 70s
	The pool
	Has a cool blue aqua shade
	Like the Gatorade that my dad likes to drink
	Where you’ll peer into the pump-house, dear
	Or the diving board where you laid on the brink
	But please don’t freeze or fade
	Like the bottles of booze
	That snooze beneath the sink
	And if my reasoning gets frayed
	It’ll cauterize us tauter ties someday
	I think
	When the roofers jump in the seaway
	At midday in their jean-shorts to cool down
	We’ll go down to Morristown
	And bask there in the decay
	And ask where our summer glories drown
	With the subtle carnage of the bloated rock bass
	Sucking in the bright sky summer boat gas
	Floating there
	As we boated past
	Slinking through the stony Thousand Islands
	That go sinking in the water with the slickest absence of violence
	But
	In the musty attic loft
	I knew your young sore ecstatic soft
	Body
	The waitress’ language was blaring out, “Can you
	Bear the despair of the typos on the menu?”
	I wheeled you through the field with the billboards
	You wheeled the Ford to the sordid Price Chopper
	Where every shopper was leaning in the struggle to stand
	Like the green copper-stained gravestones that sink into the land
	That night
	Earthworms were squirming their way through my dark feel
	Some sermons found permanence on ancient-burned reel-to-reel
	If permanence is arbitrary
	Who decides the summers where we will
	Be forever?
	I’d like to meet that thing
	It’s a dimming thing

	zuo ci : Matthew Christopher Milia
	zuo qu : Matthew Christopher Milia
	Papa' s standing sort of bovine
	In the shrine of his brother' s room, the priest
	Recently deceased in this North Country heat
	Lunch meat on the kitchen counter
	Mary' s counting bug bites on a sunburned shoulder
	I' m counting sacramental rites and old crucifixes
	All my greatuncles' nights of cocktail mixes
	Are over
	Then we encounter
	Accidental modern radio hits
	Spits his brother' s boombox
	From the room walks Papa and then sits
	And then it' s
	Time
	Where the handicap touristtrap puttputt courses
	And trailers patched with corrugated scrap metal and divorces
	Stand
	Well, I got a granduncle and he lives inland
	Where the pure manure summer vapors get fanned
	By electric fence whir and a wave of the hand
	Of the Amish infants standing barefoot in the sand
	While the gasstation kids hang out idle and bland
	At the Subway
	Well, him and Anne died down in some dim town
	Where he built a swimming pool into the swampy farm ground
	Where the accumulation of the dimming pounds down
	Since the 70s
	The pool
	Has a cool blue aqua shade
	Like the Gatorade that my dad likes to drink
	Where you' ll peer into the pumphouse, dear
	Or the diving board where you laid on the brink
	But please don' t freeze or fade
	Like the bottles of booze
	That snooze beneath the sink
	And if my reasoning gets frayed
	It' ll cauterize us tauter ties someday
	I think
	When the roofers jump in the seaway
	At midday in their jeanshorts to cool down
	We' ll go down to Morristown
	And bask there in the decay
	And ask where our summer glories drown
	With the subtle carnage of the bloated rock bass
	Sucking in the bright sky summer boat gas
	Floating there
	As we boated past
	Slinking through the stony Thousand Islands
	That go sinking in the water with the slickest absence of violence
	But
	In the musty attic loft
	I knew your young sore ecstatic soft
	Body
	The waitress' language was blaring out, " Can you
	Bear the despair of the typos on the menu?"
	I wheeled you through the field with the billboards
	You wheeled the Ford to the sordid Price Chopper
	Where every shopper was leaning in the struggle to stand
	Like the green copperstained gravestones that sink into the land
	That night
	Earthworms were squirming their way through my dark feel
	Some sermons found permanence on ancientburned reeltoreel
	If permanence is arbitrary
	Who decides the summers where we will
	Be forever?
	I' d like to meet that thing
	It' s a dimming thing

	zuò cí : Matthew Christopher Milia
	zuò qǔ : Matthew Christopher Milia
	Papa' s standing sort of bovine
	In the shrine of his brother' s room, the priest
	Recently deceased in this North Country heat
	Lunch meat on the kitchen counter
	Mary' s counting bug bites on a sunburned shoulder
	I' m counting sacramental rites and old crucifixes
	All my greatuncles' nights of cocktail mixes
	Are over
	Then we encounter
	Accidental modern radio hits
	Spits his brother' s boombox
	From the room walks Papa and then sits
	And then it' s
	Time
	Where the handicap touristtrap puttputt courses
	And trailers patched with corrugated scrap metal and divorces
	Stand
	Well, I got a granduncle and he lives inland
	Where the pure manure summer vapors get fanned
	By electric fence whir and a wave of the hand
	Of the Amish infants standing barefoot in the sand
	While the gasstation kids hang out idle and bland
	At the Subway
	Well, him and Anne died down in some dim town
	Where he built a swimming pool into the swampy farm ground
	Where the accumulation of the dimming pounds down
	Since the 70s
	The pool
	Has a cool blue aqua shade
	Like the Gatorade that my dad likes to drink
	Where you' ll peer into the pumphouse, dear
	Or the diving board where you laid on the brink
	But please don' t freeze or fade
	Like the bottles of booze
	That snooze beneath the sink
	And if my reasoning gets frayed
	It' ll cauterize us tauter ties someday
	I think
	When the roofers jump in the seaway
	At midday in their jeanshorts to cool down
	We' ll go down to Morristown
	And bask there in the decay
	And ask where our summer glories drown
	With the subtle carnage of the bloated rock bass
	Sucking in the bright sky summer boat gas
	Floating there
	As we boated past
	Slinking through the stony Thousand Islands
	That go sinking in the water with the slickest absence of violence
	But
	In the musty attic loft
	I knew your young sore ecstatic soft
	Body
	The waitress' language was blaring out, " Can you
	Bear the despair of the typos on the menu?"
	I wheeled you through the field with the billboards
	You wheeled the Ford to the sordid Price Chopper
	Where every shopper was leaning in the struggle to stand
	Like the green copperstained gravestones that sink into the land
	That night
	Earthworms were squirming their way through my dark feel
	Some sermons found permanence on ancientburned reeltoreel
	If permanence is arbitrary
	Who decides the summers where we will
	Be forever?
	I' d like to meet that thing
	It' s a dimming thing

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