Song | Twisted and Bent |
Artist | The Trash Can Sinatras |
Album | A Happy Pocket |
作词 : Trash Can Sinatras | |
I come aboard | |
I sing a lament | |
The world isn't round | |
It's Twisted and Bent | |
But to face doom in a sock-stenched room all by myself | |
Is the kind of fate I never contemplate | |
That reminds me of the time I felt | |
It's time for sin and catholic guilt | |
Two years later to the day | |
I had reason to confess | |
With her hair a shining shade | |
Of bus-conductress blonde | |
Tales of music and movement | |
Were told in grip and groan | |
But to put these thoughts | |
In songs like theirs | |
Of the honest truth | |
There'd be no trace | |
Just lying out loud | |
Good God give me strength to face another lazy day of | |
"If I was a millionaire I'd be a million miles from here" | |
You came into my life like a brick through a window | |
And I cracked a smile | |
I know her face so well | |
Although the color of her eyes | |
Escapes me for the moment | |
Though her embrace | |
Is like being short-changed | |
But if I knew what made carpets fly | |
I wouldn't be sitting here | |
Twiddling my thumbs | |
I'd threadbare my soul | |
And wheedle my way | |
Into other people's lives | |
And out of my own | |
So typical - a battle of wits | |
And I've come half prepared | |
Now we raised a toast to celebrate | |
As December's embers fade | |
But every fire is just a hoax | |
For January's little joke | |
Halfway to paralyzed my understudy's eyes grew tired | |
Every actor hides a heckle, | |
Doctor hydes a jekyll | |
See through my disguise | |
But I forget the conversation we had | |
I don't remember what you said or did | |
That made you so attractive | |
I'm immortal | |
And that's no life at all |
zuò cí : Trash Can Sinatras | |
I come aboard | |
I sing a lament | |
The world isn' t round | |
It' s Twisted and Bent | |
But to face doom in a sockstenched room all by myself | |
Is the kind of fate I never contemplate | |
That reminds me of the time I felt | |
It' s time for sin and catholic guilt | |
Two years later to the day | |
I had reason to confess | |
With her hair a shining shade | |
Of busconductress blonde | |
Tales of music and movement | |
Were told in grip and groan | |
But to put these thoughts | |
In songs like theirs | |
Of the honest truth | |
There' d be no trace | |
Just lying out loud | |
Good God give me strength to face another lazy day of | |
" If I was a millionaire I' d be a million miles from here" | |
You came into my life like a brick through a window | |
And I cracked a smile | |
I know her face so well | |
Although the color of her eyes | |
Escapes me for the moment | |
Though her embrace | |
Is like being shortchanged | |
But if I knew what made carpets fly | |
I wouldn' t be sitting here | |
Twiddling my thumbs | |
I' d threadbare my soul | |
And wheedle my way | |
Into other people' s lives | |
And out of my own | |
So typical a battle of wits | |
And I' ve come half prepared | |
Now we raised a toast to celebrate | |
As December' s embers fade | |
But every fire is just a hoax | |
For January' s little joke | |
Halfway to paralyzed my understudy' s eyes grew tired | |
Every actor hides a heckle, | |
Doctor hydes a jekyll | |
See through my disguise | |
But I forget the conversation we had | |
I don' t remember what you said or did | |
That made you so attractive | |
I' m immortal | |
And that' s no life at all |