歌曲 | The Case of William Smith |
歌手 | Astronautalis |
专辑 | DANCEHALLHORNSOUND!! |
下载 | Image LRC TXT |
William holds his palm out proud | |
Upon the Bible, lays it down | |
And solemnly swears against it | |
That every word is true | |
Searching through the faceless crowd | |
In the hallowed auditorium | |
He sees that everyone is turned against him | |
And his endless pursuit | |
The saga that he spells out | |
Has mothers grabbing children | |
Grown men twisting mustaches | |
As priests smooth out their suits | |
But William hammers right along | |
And ignores the banging gavel of | |
The judges plea for order | |
In the chaos of the room | |
Outside my cell | |
There is an oak that grows | |
Through the fence line | |
And towards the sun | |
They built a barrier of barbs | |
Flush butted against its bark | |
And still its burls unfurled | |
Into branches strong | |
The silver thorns that hem in my hole | |
Snare me here through sun and snow | |
While barbs may scar | |
They cannot stop the mighty oak | |
Burgeoning upward and out | |
Disfigured no doubt | |
The persistent sapling made stout | |
By its daggered escape route | |
Once it finally stands tall | |
Its limbs will make the fence fall | |
The slowest getaway car | |
That the guard ever saw | |
The warden scratches his bald patches | |
And raises arms in the air | |
He wonders how this happened | |
Despite decades to prepare | |
In this I found the faith | |
That you'd see my sentence a mistake | |
Discharge me from this place | |
And reinstate me in your grace | |
The truth will set you free one day | |
My Father promised me | |
But I'd never thought | |
The truth would come this way, quite honestly | |
William holds his palm out proud | |
Upon the Bible, lays it down | |
And solemnly swear against it | |
That every word is true | |
Searching through the faceless crowd | |
In the hallowed auditorium | |
He sees that everyone is turned against him | |
And his endless pursuit | |
If you had told me back then | |
That the words from my pen | |
Would've branded me a paynim | |
I would never changed a damn thing | |
I am sure it's shocking to your ears | |
That the treaties you revere | |
Would suffer such assessment | |
At the stylus of confrére | |
But I am more than well aware | |
How you all were unprepared | |
To stare into the sun | |
As it means to pick apart its flares | |
With my covenant in question | |
And career upon the line | |
I will suffer your reckless sanctions | |
With the clarity of mind | |
That the charges that you lay | |
Against my character of faith | |
Will burden you with shame | |
When you face the presumed paradise | |
And He knows, well as I | |
That His heralds can carol flat songs | |
The refrains ring familiar | |
But the words just seem a tad wrong | |
God is just a breath away | |
He lives a kiss from your lips | |
but his message can mutate | |
as it drifts from mount to chisel tips | |
So this is it | |
My suffrage sings its swan song | |
Your suspicions set me sovereign | |
From the restriction of your sad bonds | |
While you edit me from existence | |
For continuity | |
May the Lord be always in your footsteps | |
To document your lunacy | |
William holds his palm out proud | |
Upon the Bible, lays it down | |
And solemnly swears against it | |
That every word is true | |
Searching through the faceless crowd | |
In the hallowed auditorium | |
He sees that everyone is turned against him | |
And his endless pursuit | |
The saga that he spells out | |
Has mothers grabbing children | |
Grown men twisting mustaches | |
As priests smooth out their suits | |
But William hammers right along | |
And ignores the banging gavel of | |
The judges plea for order | |
In the chaos of the room |
William holds his palm out proud | |
Upon the Bible, lays it down | |
And solemnly swears against it | |
That every word is true | |
Searching through the faceless crowd | |
In the hallowed auditorium | |
He sees that everyone is turned against him | |
And his endless pursuit | |
The saga that he spells out | |
Has mothers grabbing children | |
Grown men twisting mustaches | |
As priests smooth out their suits | |
But William hammers right along | |
And ignores the banging gavel of | |
The judges plea for order | |
In the chaos of the room | |
Outside my cell | |
There is an oak that grows | |
Through the fence line | |
And towards the sun | |
They built a barrier of barbs | |
Flush butted against its bark | |
And still its burls unfurled | |
Into branches strong | |
The silver thorns that hem in my hole | |
Snare me here through sun and snow | |
While barbs may scar | |
They cannot stop the mighty oak | |
Burgeoning upward and out | |
Disfigured no doubt | |
The persistent sapling made stout | |
By its daggered escape route | |
Once it finally stands tall | |
Its limbs will make the fence fall | |
The slowest getaway car | |
That the guard ever saw | |
The warden scratches his bald patches | |
And raises arms in the air | |
He wonders how this happened | |
Despite decades to prepare | |
In this I found the faith | |
That you' d see my sentence a mistake | |
Discharge me from this place | |
And reinstate me in your grace | |
The truth will set you free one day | |
My Father promised me | |
But I' d never thought | |
The truth would come this way, quite honestly | |
William holds his palm out proud | |
Upon the Bible, lays it down | |
And solemnly swear against it | |
That every word is true | |
Searching through the faceless crowd | |
In the hallowed auditorium | |
He sees that everyone is turned against him | |
And his endless pursuit | |
If you had told me back then | |
That the words from my pen | |
Would' ve branded me a paynim | |
I would never changed a damn thing | |
I am sure it' s shocking to your ears | |
That the treaties you revere | |
Would suffer such assessment | |
At the stylus of confre re | |
But I am more than well aware | |
How you all were unprepared | |
To stare into the sun | |
As it means to pick apart its flares | |
With my covenant in question | |
And career upon the line | |
I will suffer your reckless sanctions | |
With the clarity of mind | |
That the charges that you lay | |
Against my character of faith | |
Will burden you with shame | |
When you face the presumed paradise | |
And He knows, well as I | |
That His heralds can carol flat songs | |
The refrains ring familiar | |
But the words just seem a tad wrong | |
God is just a breath away | |
He lives a kiss from your lips | |
but his message can mutate | |
as it drifts from mount to chisel tips | |
So this is it | |
My suffrage sings its swan song | |
Your suspicions set me sovereign | |
From the restriction of your sad bonds | |
While you edit me from existence | |
For continuity | |
May the Lord be always in your footsteps | |
To document your lunacy | |
William holds his palm out proud | |
Upon the Bible, lays it down | |
And solemnly swears against it | |
That every word is true | |
Searching through the faceless crowd | |
In the hallowed auditorium | |
He sees that everyone is turned against him | |
And his endless pursuit | |
The saga that he spells out | |
Has mothers grabbing children | |
Grown men twisting mustaches | |
As priests smooth out their suits | |
But William hammers right along | |
And ignores the banging gavel of | |
The judges plea for order | |
In the chaos of the room |
William holds his palm out proud | |
Upon the Bible, lays it down | |
And solemnly swears against it | |
That every word is true | |
Searching through the faceless crowd | |
In the hallowed auditorium | |
He sees that everyone is turned against him | |
And his endless pursuit | |
The saga that he spells out | |
Has mothers grabbing children | |
Grown men twisting mustaches | |
As priests smooth out their suits | |
But William hammers right along | |
And ignores the banging gavel of | |
The judges plea for order | |
In the chaos of the room | |
Outside my cell | |
There is an oak that grows | |
Through the fence line | |
And towards the sun | |
They built a barrier of barbs | |
Flush butted against its bark | |
And still its burls unfurled | |
Into branches strong | |
The silver thorns that hem in my hole | |
Snare me here through sun and snow | |
While barbs may scar | |
They cannot stop the mighty oak | |
Burgeoning upward and out | |
Disfigured no doubt | |
The persistent sapling made stout | |
By its daggered escape route | |
Once it finally stands tall | |
Its limbs will make the fence fall | |
The slowest getaway car | |
That the guard ever saw | |
The warden scratches his bald patches | |
And raises arms in the air | |
He wonders how this happened | |
Despite decades to prepare | |
In this I found the faith | |
That you' d see my sentence a mistake | |
Discharge me from this place | |
And reinstate me in your grace | |
The truth will set you free one day | |
My Father promised me | |
But I' d never thought | |
The truth would come this way, quite honestly | |
William holds his palm out proud | |
Upon the Bible, lays it down | |
And solemnly swear against it | |
That every word is true | |
Searching through the faceless crowd | |
In the hallowed auditorium | |
He sees that everyone is turned against him | |
And his endless pursuit | |
If you had told me back then | |
That the words from my pen | |
Would' ve branded me a paynim | |
I would never changed a damn thing | |
I am sure it' s shocking to your ears | |
That the treaties you revere | |
Would suffer such assessment | |
At the stylus of confré re | |
But I am more than well aware | |
How you all were unprepared | |
To stare into the sun | |
As it means to pick apart its flares | |
With my covenant in question | |
And career upon the line | |
I will suffer your reckless sanctions | |
With the clarity of mind | |
That the charges that you lay | |
Against my character of faith | |
Will burden you with shame | |
When you face the presumed paradise | |
And He knows, well as I | |
That His heralds can carol flat songs | |
The refrains ring familiar | |
But the words just seem a tad wrong | |
God is just a breath away | |
He lives a kiss from your lips | |
but his message can mutate | |
as it drifts from mount to chisel tips | |
So this is it | |
My suffrage sings its swan song | |
Your suspicions set me sovereign | |
From the restriction of your sad bonds | |
While you edit me from existence | |
For continuity | |
May the Lord be always in your footsteps | |
To document your lunacy | |
William holds his palm out proud | |
Upon the Bible, lays it down | |
And solemnly swears against it | |
That every word is true | |
Searching through the faceless crowd | |
In the hallowed auditorium | |
He sees that everyone is turned against him | |
And his endless pursuit | |
The saga that he spells out | |
Has mothers grabbing children | |
Grown men twisting mustaches | |
As priests smooth out their suits | |
But William hammers right along | |
And ignores the banging gavel of | |
The judges plea for order | |
In the chaos of the room |