Song | Looking for the Holes |
Artist | Ani DiFranco |
Album | Not So Soft |
作词 : DiFranco | |
I am looking for the holes | |
The holes in your jeans | |
Because I want to know | |
Are they worn out in the seat | |
Or are they worn out in the knees | |
There are so many ways to wear | |
What we've got before it's gone | |
To make use of what is there | |
I don't wear anything | |
I can't wipe my hands on | |
Do your politics fit between the headlines | |
Are they written in newsprint, are they distant | |
Mine are crossing an empty parking lot | |
They are a woman walking home | |
At nightAlone | |
They are six string that sing | |
And wood that hums against my hipbone | |
We can't afford to do anyone harm | |
Because we owe them our lives | |
Each breath is recycled from someone else's lungs | |
Are enemies are the very air in disguise | |
You can talk a great philosophy | |
But if you can't be kind to people | |
Every dayIt doesn't mean that much to me | |
It's the little things you do | |
The little things you say | |
It's the love you give along the way | |
When we patch things up | |
They say a job well done | |
But when we ask why | |
Where did the rips come from | |
They say we are subversive | |
And extreme, of course | |
We are just trying to track a problem to its source | |
Because we know we can't sit back | |
And let people come to harm | |
We owe them our lives | |
Each breath is recycled from someone else's lungs | |
Our enemies are the very air | |
Our enemies are the air | |
We are looking for the holes | |
The holes in your jeans | |
Because we want to know | |
Are they worn out in the seat | |
Or are they worn out in the knees |
zuò cí : DiFranco | |
I am looking for the holes | |
The holes in your jeans | |
Because I want to know | |
Are they worn out in the seat | |
Or are they worn out in the knees | |
There are so many ways to wear | |
What we' ve got before it' s gone | |
To make use of what is there | |
I don' t wear anything | |
I can' t wipe my hands on | |
Do your politics fit between the headlines | |
Are they written in newsprint, are they distant | |
Mine are crossing an empty parking lot | |
They are a woman walking home | |
At nightAlone | |
They are six string that sing | |
And wood that hums against my hipbone | |
We can' t afford to do anyone harm | |
Because we owe them our lives | |
Each breath is recycled from someone else' s lungs | |
Are enemies are the very air in disguise | |
You can talk a great philosophy | |
But if you can' t be kind to people | |
Every dayIt doesn' t mean that much to me | |
It' s the little things you do | |
The little things you say | |
It' s the love you give along the way | |
When we patch things up | |
They say a job well done | |
But when we ask why | |
Where did the rips come from | |
They say we are subversive | |
And extreme, of course | |
We are just trying to track a problem to its source | |
Because we know we can' t sit back | |
And let people come to harm | |
We owe them our lives | |
Each breath is recycled from someone else' s lungs | |
Our enemies are the very air | |
Our enemies are the air | |
We are looking for the holes | |
The holes in your jeans | |
Because we want to know | |
Are they worn out in the seat | |
Or are they worn out in the knees |