歌词网

Not So Soft

	作词 : Difranco
	in a forest of stone underneath a corporate canopy
	where the sun rarely filters down
	the ground is not so soft
	it is not so soft
	they build buildings to house people making money
	or they build buildings to make money housing people
	it's true, like a lot of things are true
	foraging from a phone booth on the forest floor
	that is not so soft
	i look up, it looks like the builidings are burning
	but it's just the sun, setting in the windows
	the solar system calling an end to another business day
	eternally circling, signalling the rythmic clicking on and off
	of computers
	the pulse .. of the american machine
	the pulse .. that draws death dancing
	out of anonymous side streets
	you know, the ones that always get dumped on
	but never get ploughed
	it draws death dancing out of little countries
	with funny languages
	where the ground is getting harder and it was
	not that soft before
	but those who call the shots
	are never in the line of fire
	why
	when there's life for hire out there
	if the flag of truth were raised
	we could watch every liar rise to wave it
	here we learn america like a script
	playright, birthright - same thing
	we bring ourselves to the role
	we're all rehearsing for the presidency
	i always wanted to be commander in chief
	of my own one woman army
	but i can envision the mediocrity of my finest hour
	it's the failed america in me
	it's the fear that lives
	in a forest of stone, underneath the corporate canopy
	where the sun rarely filters down
	and the ground
	is not so soft......

	zuò cí : Difranco
	in a forest of stone underneath a corporate canopy
	where the sun rarely filters down
	the ground is not so soft
	it is not so soft
	they build buildings to house people making money
	or they build buildings to make money housing people
	it' s true, like a lot of things are true
	foraging from a phone booth on the forest floor
	that is not so soft
	i look up, it looks like the builidings are burning
	but it' s just the sun, setting in the windows
	the solar system calling an end to another business day
	eternally circling, signalling the rythmic clicking on and off
	of computers
	the pulse .. of the american machine
	the pulse .. that draws death dancing
	out of anonymous side streets
	you know, the ones that always get dumped on
	but never get ploughed
	it draws death dancing out of little countries
	with funny languages
	where the ground is getting harder and it was
	not that soft before
	but those who call the shots
	are never in the line of fire
	why
	when there' s life for hire out there
	if the flag of truth were raised
	we could watch every liar rise to wave it
	here we learn america like a script
	playright, birthright same thing
	we bring ourselves to the role
	we' re all rehearsing for the presidency
	i always wanted to be commander in chief
	of my own one woman army
	but i can envision the mediocrity of my finest hour
	it' s the failed america in me
	it' s the fear that lives
	in a forest of stone, underneath the corporate canopy
	where the sun rarely filters down
	and the ground
	is not so soft......