歌曲 | Flies |
歌手 | The Handsome Family |
专辑 | Wilderness |
No friend of golden hand | |
Oiled with rose and smelly then | |
As your blood burned poppy red | |
Across your velvet coat | |
Your deep blue velvet coat | |
It’s there in Montana prairie grass | |
The suits shot Custard down | |
His red spot tired, his black boots shine | |
How beautiful you look to the flies | |
The happy kingdom of flies | |
Dear Custard there’s a Wal-Mart now | |
Where once the grizzlies roamed | |
Mountains of hair spray and cowboys shirts | |
And everyone has a gun | |
Everyone still has a gun | |
But high in the rafters above the lights | |
Red finches, they hide their nest | |
And when our cars drive out of sight | |
They sing symphonies across the night | |
In that forest of heating pipes | |
And out past the parking lot along the curb | |
In the wilds of weed and trash | |
Prayed on his love, the smallest ants | |
Fight battles for the glory of the queen | |
Such a tiny, glorious queen | |
But even the empress of the ants | |
For whom ten thousand fall | |
Makes not a sound beneath the blades | |
Of our great empire of lords | |
How quiet is the empire of lords |
No friend of golden hand | |
Oiled with rose and smelly then | |
As your blood burned poppy red | |
Across your velvet coat | |
Your deep blue velvet coat | |
It' s there in Montana prairie grass | |
The suits shot Custard down | |
His red spot tired, his black boots shine | |
How beautiful you look to the flies | |
The happy kingdom of flies | |
Dear Custard there' s a WalMart now | |
Where once the grizzlies roamed | |
Mountains of hair spray and cowboys shirts | |
And everyone has a gun | |
Everyone still has a gun | |
But high in the rafters above the lights | |
Red finches, they hide their nest | |
And when our cars drive out of sight | |
They sing symphonies across the night | |
In that forest of heating pipes | |
And out past the parking lot along the curb | |
In the wilds of weed and trash | |
Prayed on his love, the smallest ants | |
Fight battles for the glory of the queen | |
Such a tiny, glorious queen | |
But even the empress of the ants | |
For whom ten thousand fall | |
Makes not a sound beneath the blades | |
Of our great empire of lords | |
How quiet is the empire of lords |