Song | Wolf Party |
Artist | The Blood Brothers |
Album | Crimes |
作曲 : Blood Brothers | |
Those Wolf Mechanics. | |
Those Wolf Mechancis. | |
Today you beat the fortune teller | |
to death with your bare hands. | |
Was it his smirk.. Laugh.. | |
Or the ostrich feather taped to his purple hat? | |
He read the lines on your palm. | |
Chanting a creole song. | |
"It is soon you will die, | |
and angels don't take bribes." | |
Don't linger on the sight... | |
you smashed until your hands stop... | |
Just run back to the alley. | |
Tell jokes to the bricks and rats. | |
Because one man's murder scene, | |
is another champagne party. | |
One man's murdered spine, | |
is a soldier's war decoration. | |
Those wolf mechanics! | |
Flare up again. | |
As you make your way back to the financial district. | |
The subway is a numb field. | |
And every dazed boy and girl makes you lick your lips. | |
And the girl with the accordion, chewing grass like a lamb. | |
She hands you the juicy eye | |
and then she laughs at your pathetic tie. | |
Don't linger. On the grin you gouged in her throat. | |
Just take the subway home. | |
But the wife and kids twinkle like stuffed dogs. | |
And you're like. The stormy ocean now, | |
collecting death like driftwood. | |
Those wolf mechanics banging. | |
Those wolf mechanics crashing. | |
But one man's suicide | |
Is a credit company's bride. | |
One man's poisoned mind | |
Is a pharmaceutical gold mine. | |
You bring your kill | |
from the savannah. And bake it in the sun. | |
But the heat wraps it's flesh. | |
And you see the face of God in the tarry mess. | |
Those wolf mechanics banging. | |
Those wolf mechanics crashing. |
zuò qǔ : Blood Brothers | |
Those Wolf Mechanics. | |
Those Wolf Mechancis. | |
Today you beat the fortune teller | |
to death with your bare hands. | |
Was it his smirk.. Laugh.. | |
Or the ostrich feather taped to his purple hat? | |
He read the lines on your palm. | |
Chanting a creole song. | |
" It is soon you will die, | |
and angels don' t take bribes." | |
Don' t linger on the sight... | |
you smashed until your hands stop... | |
Just run back to the alley. | |
Tell jokes to the bricks and rats. | |
Because one man' s murder scene, | |
is another champagne party. | |
One man' s murdered spine, | |
is a soldier' s war decoration. | |
Those wolf mechanics! | |
Flare up again. | |
As you make your way back to the financial district. | |
The subway is a numb field. | |
And every dazed boy and girl makes you lick your lips. | |
And the girl with the accordion, chewing grass like a lamb. | |
She hands you the juicy eye | |
and then she laughs at your pathetic tie. | |
Don' t linger. On the grin you gouged in her throat. | |
Just take the subway home. | |
But the wife and kids twinkle like stuffed dogs. | |
And you' re like. The stormy ocean now, | |
collecting death like driftwood. | |
Those wolf mechanics banging. | |
Those wolf mechanics crashing. | |
But one man' s suicide | |
Is a credit company' s bride. | |
One man' s poisoned mind | |
Is a pharmaceutical gold mine. | |
You bring your kill | |
from the savannah. And bake it in the sun. | |
But the heat wraps it' s flesh. | |
And you see the face of God in the tarry mess. | |
Those wolf mechanics banging. | |
Those wolf mechanics crashing. |