作曲 : Gerber | |
try locking the doors | |
when there's no need to | |
try turning off the lights | |
when you leave the room | |
try opening a window | |
when you close a door | |
try leaving your clothes | |
on my bedroom floor | |
say "walking away" instead of "leaving" | |
say "nothing much has changed now that the locks are," | |
and now, | |
nothing will blur, | |
nothing goes blunt | |
because of how sharp you were | |
we broke all our beaks, | |
broke all our noses | |
on all the mirrors; i'm | |
flapping my wings, | |
flapping my arms | |
like i'm putting out a fire | |
and i | |
watch the way | |
the rain | |
gets pushed around | |
into shapes | |
by the curve | |
of the wiper blades; | |
how | |
the fields | |
are grey | |
when they're far away, and | |
are green | |
by the road | |
try standing all day | |
on the highest branches | |
try crossing your eyes | |
to see the hidden picture | |
i'm gonna see what you meant | |
when you said "i love you best" | |
i'm gonna shake all the trees | |
to make it snow once again | |
i'm gonna see it dissolve | |
into the pavement | |
how cold do you have to be | |
before it sticks to your | |
chest? | |
it's nice how things break, | |
so you can fix them | |
and feel really good | |
about fixing them; | |
it's nice how things end, | |
so you can feel good | |
about starting them | |
all over again; | |
it's nice how things break, | |
so you can fix them | |
and feel really good | |
about fixing them; | |
it's nice how things end, | |
so you can feel good | |
about starting them | |
all over again; | |
it's nice how things break, | |
so you can fix them | |
and feel really good | |
about fixing them; | |
it's nice how things end, | |
so you can feel good | |
about starting them | |
all over again; | |
it's nice how things break, | |
so you can fix them | |
and feel really good | |
(and i | |
watch the way | |
the rain | |
gets pushed around | |
into shapes | |
by the curve | |
of the wiper blades; | |
how | |
the fields | |
are grey | |
when they're far away, and | |
are green | |
by the road) | |
it's | |
nice | |
how | |
things | |
break, so | |
you can | |
try | |
not the breathe | |
so hard | |
there's glass between me | |
and you, | |
and now, | |
it's fogging up | |
i | |
can't see | |
the way | |
you're missing me, | |
what | |
it does | |
to your eyes | |
it's | |
nice | |
how | |
things | |
end, so | |
you can | |
trace | |
what you want | |
to say | |
on the condensation | |
some words, | |
a line | |
from your favourite song; | |
but write | |
it backwards, cos i'm | |
on the other side, and i | |
see the mirror | |
image | |
i | |
watch the way | |
the rain | |
gets pushed around | |
into shapes | |
by the curve | |
of the wiper blades | |
how | |
the fields | |
are grey | |
when they're far away | |
and | |
are green | |
by the road |
zuo qu : Gerber | |
try locking the doors | |
when there' s no need to | |
try turning off the lights | |
when you leave the room | |
try opening a window | |
when you close a door | |
try leaving your clothes | |
on my bedroom floor | |
say " walking away" instead of " leaving" | |
say " nothing much has changed now that the locks are," | |
and now, | |
nothing will blur, | |
nothing goes blunt | |
because of how sharp you were | |
we broke all our beaks, | |
broke all our noses | |
on all the mirrors i' m | |
flapping my wings, | |
flapping my arms | |
like i' m putting out a fire | |
and i | |
watch the way | |
the rain | |
gets pushed around | |
into shapes | |
by the curve | |
of the wiper blades | |
how | |
the fields | |
are grey | |
when they' re far away, and | |
are green | |
by the road | |
try standing all day | |
on the highest branches | |
try crossing your eyes | |
to see the hidden picture | |
i' m gonna see what you meant | |
when you said " i love you best" | |
i' m gonna shake all the trees | |
to make it snow once again | |
i' m gonna see it dissolve | |
into the pavement | |
how cold do you have to be | |
before it sticks to your | |
chest? | |
it' s nice how things break, | |
so you can fix them | |
and feel really good | |
about fixing them | |
it' s nice how things end, | |
so you can feel good | |
about starting them | |
all over again | |
it' s nice how things break, | |
so you can fix them | |
and feel really good | |
about fixing them | |
it' s nice how things end, | |
so you can feel good | |
about starting them | |
all over again | |
it' s nice how things break, | |
so you can fix them | |
and feel really good | |
about fixing them | |
it' s nice how things end, | |
so you can feel good | |
about starting them | |
all over again | |
it' s nice how things break, | |
so you can fix them | |
and feel really good | |
and i | |
watch the way | |
the rain | |
gets pushed around | |
into shapes | |
by the curve | |
of the wiper blades | |
how | |
the fields | |
are grey | |
when they' re far away, and | |
are green | |
by the road | |
it' s | |
nice | |
how | |
things | |
break, so | |
you can | |
try | |
not the breathe | |
so hard | |
there' s glass between me | |
and you, | |
and now, | |
it' s fogging up | |
i | |
can' t see | |
the way | |
you' re missing me, | |
what | |
it does | |
to your eyes | |
it' s | |
nice | |
how | |
things | |
end, so | |
you can | |
trace | |
what you want | |
to say | |
on the condensation | |
some words, | |
a line | |
from your favourite song | |
but write | |
it backwards, cos i' m | |
on the other side, and i | |
see the mirror | |
image | |
i | |
watch the way | |
the rain | |
gets pushed around | |
into shapes | |
by the curve | |
of the wiper blades | |
how | |
the fields | |
are grey | |
when they' re far away | |
and | |
are green | |
by the road |
zuò qǔ : Gerber | |
try locking the doors | |
when there' s no need to | |
try turning off the lights | |
when you leave the room | |
try opening a window | |
when you close a door | |
try leaving your clothes | |
on my bedroom floor | |
say " walking away" instead of " leaving" | |
say " nothing much has changed now that the locks are," | |
and now, | |
nothing will blur, | |
nothing goes blunt | |
because of how sharp you were | |
we broke all our beaks, | |
broke all our noses | |
on all the mirrors i' m | |
flapping my wings, | |
flapping my arms | |
like i' m putting out a fire | |
and i | |
watch the way | |
the rain | |
gets pushed around | |
into shapes | |
by the curve | |
of the wiper blades | |
how | |
the fields | |
are grey | |
when they' re far away, and | |
are green | |
by the road | |
try standing all day | |
on the highest branches | |
try crossing your eyes | |
to see the hidden picture | |
i' m gonna see what you meant | |
when you said " i love you best" | |
i' m gonna shake all the trees | |
to make it snow once again | |
i' m gonna see it dissolve | |
into the pavement | |
how cold do you have to be | |
before it sticks to your | |
chest? | |
it' s nice how things break, | |
so you can fix them | |
and feel really good | |
about fixing them | |
it' s nice how things end, | |
so you can feel good | |
about starting them | |
all over again | |
it' s nice how things break, | |
so you can fix them | |
and feel really good | |
about fixing them | |
it' s nice how things end, | |
so you can feel good | |
about starting them | |
all over again | |
it' s nice how things break, | |
so you can fix them | |
and feel really good | |
about fixing them | |
it' s nice how things end, | |
so you can feel good | |
about starting them | |
all over again | |
it' s nice how things break, | |
so you can fix them | |
and feel really good | |
and i | |
watch the way | |
the rain | |
gets pushed around | |
into shapes | |
by the curve | |
of the wiper blades | |
how | |
the fields | |
are grey | |
when they' re far away, and | |
are green | |
by the road | |
it' s | |
nice | |
how | |
things | |
break, so | |
you can | |
try | |
not the breathe | |
so hard | |
there' s glass between me | |
and you, | |
and now, | |
it' s fogging up | |
i | |
can' t see | |
the way | |
you' re missing me, | |
what | |
it does | |
to your eyes | |
it' s | |
nice | |
how | |
things | |
end, so | |
you can | |
trace | |
what you want | |
to say | |
on the condensation | |
some words, | |
a line | |
from your favourite song | |
but write | |
it backwards, cos i' m | |
on the other side, and i | |
see the mirror | |
image | |
i | |
watch the way | |
the rain | |
gets pushed around | |
into shapes | |
by the curve | |
of the wiper blades | |
how | |
the fields | |
are grey | |
when they' re far away | |
and | |
are green | |
by the road |