Song | In a Market Dimly Lit |
Artist | mewithoutYou |
Album | Brother, Sister |
作曲 : MewithoutYou | |
the bird that plucked the Olive Leaf | |
has been circling like a record 'round the spindle of my mind | |
where the needle's worn the grooves too deep, | |
and scratched the wax that's blistered from the heat besides | |
from any movement in the room- | |
if my cat walked by the arm skipped! | |
but to my surprise, my interrupting cat improved | |
the sound already so severely compromised | |
'cause the needle's worn the grooves too deep | |
the needle's worn the grooves too deep | |
I'm a donkey's jaw on a desert dune | |
beside the bush that Moses saw | |
that burned and yet was not consumed | |
she's the silver coin I lost, | |
I'm the sheep who slipped away | |
we pray the fingers crossed | |
but you listen patiently anyway | |
I wrote a little song for you | |
a melody I borrowed put to words that didn't rhyme | |
to repeat what you already knew | |
as the stones thrown at your window tap in syncopation | |
you kept a distance out of fear you'd break | |
but what good's a single windchime, hanging quiet all alone? | |
the music our collisions would make | |
is a sound that turns the road-that-leads-us-back-home | |
into Home. | |
the music our collisions make! | |
the music our collisions make! | |
I had a rusty spade but I'm not the fighting sort | |
if I was Samson I'd have found that harlot's blade | |
and cut my own hair short! | |
then in a market dimly lit I come casually to pay | |
you see my coins are counterfeit | |
but accept them anyway | |
so spare me your goodbyes, | |
your waving-handkerchief-good-byes | |
given my tendency to err so on the sentimental side | |
I'll spare you my goodbyes, | |
the truth belongs to G-d, | |
the mistakes were mine |
zuò qǔ : MewithoutYou | |
the bird that plucked the Olive Leaf | |
has been circling like a record ' round the spindle of my mind | |
where the needle' s worn the grooves too deep, | |
and scratched the wax that' s blistered from the heat besides | |
from any movement in the room | |
if my cat walked by the arm skipped! | |
but to my surprise, my interrupting cat improved | |
the sound already so severely compromised | |
' cause the needle' s worn the grooves too deep | |
the needle' s worn the grooves too deep | |
I' m a donkey' s jaw on a desert dune | |
beside the bush that Moses saw | |
that burned and yet was not consumed | |
she' s the silver coin I lost, | |
I' m the sheep who slipped away | |
we pray the fingers crossed | |
but you listen patiently anyway | |
I wrote a little song for you | |
a melody I borrowed put to words that didn' t rhyme | |
to repeat what you already knew | |
as the stones thrown at your window tap in syncopation | |
you kept a distance out of fear you' d break | |
but what good' s a single windchime, hanging quiet all alone? | |
the music our collisions would make | |
is a sound that turns the roadthatleadsusbackhome | |
into Home. | |
the music our collisions make! | |
the music our collisions make! | |
I had a rusty spade but I' m not the fighting sort | |
if I was Samson I' d have found that harlot' s blade | |
and cut my own hair short! | |
then in a market dimly lit I come casually to pay | |
you see my coins are counterfeit | |
but accept them anyway | |
so spare me your goodbyes, | |
your wavinghandkerchiefgoodbyes | |
given my tendency to err so on the sentimental side | |
I' ll spare you my goodbyes, | |
the truth belongs to Gd, | |
the mistakes were mine |