Song | Cerdes (Outside The Gates Of) |
Artist | Procol Harum |
Album | 30th Anniversary Anthology |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
作词 : Brooker, Reid | |
(brooker / reid) | |
Outside the gates of cerdes sits the two-pronged unicorn | |
Who plays at relaxation time a rhinestone flugelhorn | |
Whilst mermaids lace carnations into wreaths for ailing whales | |
And neptune dances hornpipes while salome sheds her veils | |
Phallus phil tries peddling his pewter painted pot | |
But sousa sam can only hear the screams of peep the sot | |
Who only sips his creme de menthe from terra cotta cups | |
And exhales menthol scented breath whilst spewing verbiage up | |
Down technical blind alleys live the wraiths of former dreams | |
And greeps who often crossed them are no longer what they seem | |
And even christian scientists can but display marble plaques | |
Which only retell legends whilst my eyes reach out for facts | |
Yeah, my eyes reach out for facts |
zuo ci : Brooker, Reid | |
brooker reid | |
Outside the gates of cerdes sits the twopronged unicorn | |
Who plays at relaxation time a rhinestone flugelhorn | |
Whilst mermaids lace carnations into wreaths for ailing whales | |
And neptune dances hornpipes while salome sheds her veils | |
Phallus phil tries peddling his pewter painted pot | |
But sousa sam can only hear the screams of peep the sot | |
Who only sips his creme de menthe from terra cotta cups | |
And exhales menthol scented breath whilst spewing verbiage up | |
Down technical blind alleys live the wraiths of former dreams | |
And greeps who often crossed them are no longer what they seem | |
And even christian scientists can but display marble plaques | |
Which only retell legends whilst my eyes reach out for facts | |
Yeah, my eyes reach out for facts |
zuò cí : Brooker, Reid | |
brooker reid | |
Outside the gates of cerdes sits the twopronged unicorn | |
Who plays at relaxation time a rhinestone flugelhorn | |
Whilst mermaids lace carnations into wreaths for ailing whales | |
And neptune dances hornpipes while salome sheds her veils | |
Phallus phil tries peddling his pewter painted pot | |
But sousa sam can only hear the screams of peep the sot | |
Who only sips his creme de menthe from terra cotta cups | |
And exhales menthol scented breath whilst spewing verbiage up | |
Down technical blind alleys live the wraiths of former dreams | |
And greeps who often crossed them are no longer what they seem | |
And even christian scientists can but display marble plaques | |
Which only retell legends whilst my eyes reach out for facts | |
Yeah, my eyes reach out for facts |