Costa 歌词

	作词 : Benge, Wyatt
	Orange,
	the fierce orange of the egg-shaped fireball
	plopping into the ocean
	as the earth tips backwards towards night.
	Orange,
	the scratched orange of the gas bottles
	delivered for lack of pipeline,
	dragged to the door by the man in a wig.
	Orange,
	the soft orange of two full moons –
	one high, one low in a puddle mirror
	floating in a pothole of the unmade road.

	zuo ci : Benge, Wyatt
	Orange,
	the fierce orange of the eggshaped fireball
	plopping into the ocean
	as the earth tips backwards towards night.
	Orange,
	the scratched orange of the gas bottles
	delivered for lack of pipeline,
	dragged to the door by the man in a wig.
	Orange,
	the soft orange of two full moons
	one high, one low in a puddle mirror
	floating in a pothole of the unmade road.

	zuò cí : Benge, Wyatt
	Orange,
	the fierce orange of the eggshaped fireball
	plopping into the ocean
	as the earth tips backwards towards night.
	Orange,
	the scratched orange of the gas bottles
	delivered for lack of pipeline,
	dragged to the door by the man in a wig.
	Orange,
	the soft orange of two full moons
	one high, one low in a puddle mirror
	floating in a pothole of the unmade road.

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