Song | The Game, Pts. 1-5 |
Artist | Roy Harper |
Album | HQ |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
作词 : Harper | |
There's an owl in the valley fixing his prey | |
He's not counting the tally | |
It's down to what comes up before the day | |
And the trees in the orchard were taken from a narrow view of time | |
Where the minds of the tortured perpetuated patron saints of crime | |
Oh civilisation. | |
I can fit into your puzzle but it's hardly, hardly ever a hold | |
And I'll tell you, yeah yeah, tell you the trouble | |
The habits I've got are more than 10.000 years old | |
And we cannot sell our souls to learning morals | |
Big brother is no place for us to slide | |
We cannot live by numbers or on laurels | |
And hardly on how far from death we hide. | |
And it's not a case of rampant paranoia | |
But just an age I'd love to see unborn | |
Not that I'd be missing playing Goya | |
More like I feel awkward passing on | |
Civilisation, civilisation down to my children | |
Without a question. | |
While the prophets of freedom, battery farming brains for narrow minds | |
Have decided, yes they decided that meaning is far beyond the lives they left behind | |
As two thirds of the population dine | |
On scraps in shadow lengthening with time | |
While propaganda spreads the same old theme | |
You is me and we can change the game, bullshit. | |
Oh but how many times have we written these lines | |
And delivered these signs and not made it happen | |
Walking the tightrope of taking our head off | |
Losing the rhythm, idealising and all criticising | |
And not realising that we've changed and left and we've gone. | |
And sad to be leaving the things we believe in but time has a way and we fly | |
The next age is born and the old hands are gone and done in the wink of an eye | |
No point in passing bad reason good guessing, no time for massing much more than can flourish with love. | |
And right now, my darling, I'm lying here dreaming of feeling, no daylight between us | |
So wherever you are and whenever I'm there is someplace we've got to be ours | |
Can we right-heartedly stand in this light and see what might turn out to be crazy enough, enough to be we ? | |
When we've had a past sad enough to last for sometime into the future | |
These storms have torn and true love is alone and the past is almost a failure | |
Consciences burn in the programme turn, computing the social behaviour | |
But yoke revolts, the foundation bolts and cries for yet another saviour. | |
And I'd pack my things on a pair of wings and tomorrow I'd be parting | |
With the summer birds and the winter herds for a place to face a new heart in | |
But it makes no difference, where I am I'm in the game first hand | |
There are no certain answers and no time to understand | |
The rules are set to paradox, coercion and blind faith | |
The goal's a changing paradise, a moment out of date | |
The dream is righteous grandeur fit to flood the universe | |
The fact is more than meets the eye but less than runs the earth, running the earth. | |
And the prisoner of the present paces up and down inside his cell | |
He's the living replacement, somersaulting from this psychic well | |
Screaming : 'I'm the sponsor of a hell' | |
Voices like the sea inside a shell | |
Telling me I cannot stake a claim | |
Possession is a clue but not the game | |
So please leave this world as clean as when you came. | |
So please leave this world as clean as when you came | |
Please leave this world as clean as when you came | |
Please leave this world as clean as when you came | |
Please leave this world as clean as when you came. |
zuo ci : Harper | |
There' s an owl in the valley fixing his prey | |
He' s not counting the tally | |
It' s down to what comes up before the day | |
And the trees in the orchard were taken from a narrow view of time | |
Where the minds of the tortured perpetuated patron saints of crime | |
Oh civilisation. | |
I can fit into your puzzle but it' s hardly, hardly ever a hold | |
And I' ll tell you, yeah yeah, tell you the trouble | |
The habits I' ve got are more than 10. 000 years old | |
And we cannot sell our souls to learning morals | |
Big brother is no place for us to slide | |
We cannot live by numbers or on laurels | |
And hardly on how far from death we hide. | |
And it' s not a case of rampant paranoia | |
But just an age I' d love to see unborn | |
Not that I' d be missing playing Goya | |
More like I feel awkward passing on | |
Civilisation, civilisation down to my children | |
Without a question. | |
While the prophets of freedom, battery farming brains for narrow minds | |
Have decided, yes they decided that meaning is far beyond the lives they left behind | |
As two thirds of the population dine | |
On scraps in shadow lengthening with time | |
While propaganda spreads the same old theme | |
You is me and we can change the game, bullshit. | |
Oh but how many times have we written these lines | |
And delivered these signs and not made it happen | |
Walking the tightrope of taking our head off | |
Losing the rhythm, idealising and all criticising | |
And not realising that we' ve changed and left and we' ve gone. | |
And sad to be leaving the things we believe in but time has a way and we fly | |
The next age is born and the old hands are gone and done in the wink of an eye | |
No point in passing bad reason good guessing, no time for massing much more than can flourish with love. | |
And right now, my darling, I' m lying here dreaming of feeling, no daylight between us | |
So wherever you are and whenever I' m there is someplace we' ve got to be ours | |
Can we rightheartedly stand in this light and see what might turn out to be crazy enough, enough to be we ? | |
When we' ve had a past sad enough to last for sometime into the future | |
These storms have torn and true love is alone and the past is almost a failure | |
Consciences burn in the programme turn, computing the social behaviour | |
But yoke revolts, the foundation bolts and cries for yet another saviour. | |
And I' d pack my things on a pair of wings and tomorrow I' d be parting | |
With the summer birds and the winter herds for a place to face a new heart in | |
But it makes no difference, where I am I' m in the game first hand | |
There are no certain answers and no time to understand | |
The rules are set to paradox, coercion and blind faith | |
The goal' s a changing paradise, a moment out of date | |
The dream is righteous grandeur fit to flood the universe | |
The fact is more than meets the eye but less than runs the earth, running the earth. | |
And the prisoner of the present paces up and down inside his cell | |
He' s the living replacement, somersaulting from this psychic well | |
Screaming : ' I' m the sponsor of a hell' | |
Voices like the sea inside a shell | |
Telling me I cannot stake a claim | |
Possession is a clue but not the game | |
So please leave this world as clean as when you came. | |
So please leave this world as clean as when you came | |
Please leave this world as clean as when you came | |
Please leave this world as clean as when you came | |
Please leave this world as clean as when you came. |
zuò cí : Harper | |
There' s an owl in the valley fixing his prey | |
He' s not counting the tally | |
It' s down to what comes up before the day | |
And the trees in the orchard were taken from a narrow view of time | |
Where the minds of the tortured perpetuated patron saints of crime | |
Oh civilisation. | |
I can fit into your puzzle but it' s hardly, hardly ever a hold | |
And I' ll tell you, yeah yeah, tell you the trouble | |
The habits I' ve got are more than 10. 000 years old | |
And we cannot sell our souls to learning morals | |
Big brother is no place for us to slide | |
We cannot live by numbers or on laurels | |
And hardly on how far from death we hide. | |
And it' s not a case of rampant paranoia | |
But just an age I' d love to see unborn | |
Not that I' d be missing playing Goya | |
More like I feel awkward passing on | |
Civilisation, civilisation down to my children | |
Without a question. | |
While the prophets of freedom, battery farming brains for narrow minds | |
Have decided, yes they decided that meaning is far beyond the lives they left behind | |
As two thirds of the population dine | |
On scraps in shadow lengthening with time | |
While propaganda spreads the same old theme | |
You is me and we can change the game, bullshit. | |
Oh but how many times have we written these lines | |
And delivered these signs and not made it happen | |
Walking the tightrope of taking our head off | |
Losing the rhythm, idealising and all criticising | |
And not realising that we' ve changed and left and we' ve gone. | |
And sad to be leaving the things we believe in but time has a way and we fly | |
The next age is born and the old hands are gone and done in the wink of an eye | |
No point in passing bad reason good guessing, no time for massing much more than can flourish with love. | |
And right now, my darling, I' m lying here dreaming of feeling, no daylight between us | |
So wherever you are and whenever I' m there is someplace we' ve got to be ours | |
Can we rightheartedly stand in this light and see what might turn out to be crazy enough, enough to be we ? | |
When we' ve had a past sad enough to last for sometime into the future | |
These storms have torn and true love is alone and the past is almost a failure | |
Consciences burn in the programme turn, computing the social behaviour | |
But yoke revolts, the foundation bolts and cries for yet another saviour. | |
And I' d pack my things on a pair of wings and tomorrow I' d be parting | |
With the summer birds and the winter herds for a place to face a new heart in | |
But it makes no difference, where I am I' m in the game first hand | |
There are no certain answers and no time to understand | |
The rules are set to paradox, coercion and blind faith | |
The goal' s a changing paradise, a moment out of date | |
The dream is righteous grandeur fit to flood the universe | |
The fact is more than meets the eye but less than runs the earth, running the earth. | |
And the prisoner of the present paces up and down inside his cell | |
He' s the living replacement, somersaulting from this psychic well | |
Screaming : ' I' m the sponsor of a hell' | |
Voices like the sea inside a shell | |
Telling me I cannot stake a claim | |
Possession is a clue but not the game | |
So please leave this world as clean as when you came. | |
So please leave this world as clean as when you came | |
Please leave this world as clean as when you came | |
Please leave this world as clean as when you came | |
Please leave this world as clean as when you came. |