| Song | Tomorrow Comes a Day Too Soon |
| Artist | Flogging Molly |
| Album | Within a Mile of Home |
| 作曲 : Casey, Hensley, King, Maxwell ... | |
| You, you never looked so good | |
| Sipping life down like | |
| I wish I could | |
| But these sober tears are all that's left to shed | |
| Sandy's soul, now made of bread | |
| Face down beneath the rubble lies a man | |
| Tales of the future already in the past | |
| And of himself, well, he hasn't much to say | |
| But wake the gods, it's a droodlin' day | |
| He said, "I left my home where the dead never roseBut the streets of gold I've yet to findAnd at the end of the day, all you can do is prayWithout hope, well, you might as well be blind, yeah, be blindTomorrow comes a day too soon, tomorrow comes a day too soonAngel, sweet angel of my youthWhere have you gone? You flew away too soonThis brick I built, now builds a higher wallSee it crumble, hear me fallThere hangs the fool, who once had it allHe said, " | |
| I left my home where the dead never rose | |
| But the streets of gold | |
| I've yet to find | |
| And at the end of the day all you can do is pray | |
| Without hope, well, you might as well be blind, yeah, be blind | |
| Tomorrow comes a day too soon, tomorrow comes a day too soon | |
| And though the road has yet to rise | |
| On these hundred years that passed me by | |
| And the blood with the river flows | |
| Through the crimson field never sung | |
| And, no, never sung | |
| He said, "I left my home where the dead never roseBut the streets of gold I've yet to findAnd at the end of the day all you can do is prayWithout hope, well, you might as well be blind, yeah, be blindTomorrow comes a day too soon, tomorrow comes a day too soonTomorrow comes a day too soon, tomorrow comes a day too soonAh, well you, you never looked so good |
| zuò qǔ : Casey, Hensley, King, Maxwell ... | |
| You, you never looked so good | |
| Sipping life down like | |
| I wish I could | |
| But these sober tears are all that' s left to shed | |
| Sandy' s soul, now made of bread | |
| Face down beneath the rubble lies a man | |
| Tales of the future already in the past | |
| And of himself, well, he hasn' t much to say | |
| But wake the gods, it' s a droodlin' day | |
| He said, " I left my home where the dead never roseBut the streets of gold I' ve yet to findAnd at the end of the day, all you can do is prayWithout hope, well, you might as well be blind, yeah, be blindTomorrow comes a day too soon, tomorrow comes a day too soonAngel, sweet angel of my youthWhere have you gone? You flew away too soonThis brick I built, now builds a higher wallSee it crumble, hear me fallThere hangs the fool, who once had it allHe said, " | |
| I left my home where the dead never rose | |
| But the streets of gold | |
| I' ve yet to find | |
| And at the end of the day all you can do is pray | |
| Without hope, well, you might as well be blind, yeah, be blind | |
| Tomorrow comes a day too soon, tomorrow comes a day too soon | |
| And though the road has yet to rise | |
| On these hundred years that passed me by | |
| And the blood with the river flows | |
| Through the crimson field never sung | |
| And, no, never sung | |
| He said, " I left my home where the dead never roseBut the streets of gold I' ve yet to findAnd at the end of the day all you can do is prayWithout hope, well, you might as well be blind, yeah, be blindTomorrow comes a day too soon, tomorrow comes a day too soonTomorrow comes a day too soon, tomorrow comes a day too soonAh, well you, you never looked so good |