Song | Second Intermission |
Artist | Ani DiFranco |
Album | Evolve |
作词 : DiFranco | |
second intermission | |
anticipation | |
you know the third act | |
small talk drops out of the play | |
you're standing in the lobby | |
tightening your tourniquet | |
waiting for it | |
and then the bell sounds | |
and the lights flash | |
and there's all these questions milling around | |
and there's no time to ask | |
no bliss for little miss leading | |
cuz she's learning about bleeding | |
but what is love if not exquisite | |
our only saving grace | |
or is it? | |
and somewhere inside your iris | |
blooms the reflection of my surprise | |
as you stroll past every last do not enter | |
and touch me at my epicenter | |
and the bell sounds | |
and the lights flash | |
and there's all these questions milling around | |
and there's no time to ask | |
I'm always trying to get there | |
I never really get there | |
to that quiet place where | |
I accept myself | |
instead I'm deep inside some high school | |
locker room no clothing | |
popping the zits of my self loathing | |
under fluorescent lights | |
and the bell sounds | |
and the lights flash | |
and there's all these questions milling around | |
and you're too ashamed to ask | |
second intermission | |
anticipation | |
you know the third act | |
small talk drops out of the play | |
and you're standing in the lobby | |
tightening your tourniquet | |
waiting for it | |
waiting for it |
zuò cí : DiFranco | |
second intermission | |
anticipation | |
you know the third act | |
small talk drops out of the play | |
you' re standing in the lobby | |
tightening your tourniquet | |
waiting for it | |
and then the bell sounds | |
and the lights flash | |
and there' s all these questions milling around | |
and there' s no time to ask | |
no bliss for little miss leading | |
cuz she' s learning about bleeding | |
but what is love if not exquisite | |
our only saving grace | |
or is it? | |
and somewhere inside your iris | |
blooms the reflection of my surprise | |
as you stroll past every last do not enter | |
and touch me at my epicenter | |
and the bell sounds | |
and the lights flash | |
and there' s all these questions milling around | |
and there' s no time to ask | |
I' m always trying to get there | |
I never really get there | |
to that quiet place where | |
I accept myself | |
instead I' m deep inside some high school | |
locker room no clothing | |
popping the zits of my self loathing | |
under fluorescent lights | |
and the bell sounds | |
and the lights flash | |
and there' s all these questions milling around | |
and you' re too ashamed to ask | |
second intermission | |
anticipation | |
you know the third act | |
small talk drops out of the play | |
and you' re standing in the lobby | |
tightening your tourniquet | |
waiting for it | |
waiting for it |