Song | Hail, Mary |
Artist | Shearwater |
Album | Palo Santo |
作曲 : Meiburg | |
Oh hail Mary, full of death | |
Sing me a bitter song | |
As dark as the day is long | |
And as black as your eyes are wild | |
While the hail from the blackened cloud is raking the firmament | |
Destroying our argument | |
About the temperature and the time | |
Wild and unbroken | |
We lay like a wounded lamb, facing a billygoat | |
Bowed down in our heavy coats | |
Under the force and the threat of his eyes | |
And we march in our rows and rows | |
Under a burning hand | |
Past the scars of the wounded land | |
Into a country of thorns and spines | |
Wild and unbroken | |
Oh, God save the chamberlain | |
Oh, God save his appointed successor | |
But God saved his hardest face for you and all your kind | |
That's what's troubling me | |
Hail Mary, sick and proud | |
And holding aloft the light | |
That would burn through a heaving night | |
And then leave us upon the rocks | |
And the child who is nearly born | |
Waits just to do you harm | |
Like the shock of a broken arm | |
Or a love that would burn you blind | |
Wild and unbroken |
zuò qǔ : Meiburg | |
Oh hail Mary, full of death | |
Sing me a bitter song | |
As dark as the day is long | |
And as black as your eyes are wild | |
While the hail from the blackened cloud is raking the firmament | |
Destroying our argument | |
About the temperature and the time | |
Wild and unbroken | |
We lay like a wounded lamb, facing a billygoat | |
Bowed down in our heavy coats | |
Under the force and the threat of his eyes | |
And we march in our rows and rows | |
Under a burning hand | |
Past the scars of the wounded land | |
Into a country of thorns and spines | |
Wild and unbroken | |
Oh, God save the chamberlain | |
Oh, God save his appointed successor | |
But God saved his hardest face for you and all your kind | |
That' s what' s troubling me | |
Hail Mary, sick and proud | |
And holding aloft the light | |
That would burn through a heaving night | |
And then leave us upon the rocks | |
And the child who is nearly born | |
Waits just to do you harm | |
Like the shock of a broken arm | |
Or a love that would burn you blind | |
Wild and unbroken |