Round Eye Blues Lyrics
| Song | Round Eye Blues |
| Artist | Marah |
| Album | Kids In Philly |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Bielanko, Bielanko | |
| Last night I closed my eyes | |
| And watched the tracers fly | |
| Through the jungle trees | |
| Like fireflies on a windy night | |
| Pulled up and onward by the breeze | |
| I can still hear the far off tin-canny sounds | |
| Of their machine guns come unwound | |
| And I was shakin like Little Richard | |
| And I was sweatin like ol James Brown | |
| Over by my window sill | |
| The moon was still | |
| On my cigarettes and wine | |
| Sometimes theres wear I pray to Jesus | |
| Sometimes theres where I pray to die | |
| But I could still sense the circling danger | |
| Of those invisible bastards of a piss-hot day | |
| I was shakin with ol Proud Mary | |
| I was sittin on the dock of the bay | |
| Take the hits boys take the hits | |
| Dont smoke your bible and dont lose your wits | |
| Because the sky is filled with shrapnel | |
| And your eyes are filled with tears | |
| Hold your breath boys hold your breath | |
| Finger your trigger and welcome death | |
| Because the choppers filled with your gut-shot friends | |
| Your hearts are filled with fear | |
| Fables tell of men who fell | |
| With swords dangling from their chest | |
| The old guys down at the taproom swear | |
| The Japs could kill you best | |
| But late at night I could still hear the cries | |
| Of three black guys I seen take it in the face | |
| I think about them sweet Motown girls they left behind | |
| And the assholes that took their place | |
| Take the hits boys take the hits | |
| Dont smoke your bottle and dont lose your wits | |
| Because the sky is filled with shrapnel | |
| And your eyes are filled with tears | |
| Hold your breath boys hold your breath | |
| Finger your trigger and welcome death | |
| Because the choppers filled with your gut-shot friends | |
| Your hearts are filled with fear |
| zuo qu : Bielanko, Bielanko | |
| Last night I closed my eyes | |
| And watched the tracers fly | |
| Through the jungle trees | |
| Like fireflies on a windy night | |
| Pulled up and onward by the breeze | |
| I can still hear the far off tincanny sounds | |
| Of their machine guns come unwound | |
| And I was shakin like Little Richard | |
| And I was sweatin like ol James Brown | |
| Over by my window sill | |
| The moon was still | |
| On my cigarettes and wine | |
| Sometimes theres wear I pray to Jesus | |
| Sometimes theres where I pray to die | |
| But I could still sense the circling danger | |
| Of those invisible bastards of a pisshot day | |
| I was shakin with ol Proud Mary | |
| I was sittin on the dock of the bay | |
| Take the hits boys take the hits | |
| Dont smoke your bible and dont lose your wits | |
| Because the sky is filled with shrapnel | |
| And your eyes are filled with tears | |
| Hold your breath boys hold your breath | |
| Finger your trigger and welcome death | |
| Because the choppers filled with your gutshot friends | |
| Your hearts are filled with fear | |
| Fables tell of men who fell | |
| With swords dangling from their chest | |
| The old guys down at the taproom swear | |
| The Japs could kill you best | |
| But late at night I could still hear the cries | |
| Of three black guys I seen take it in the face | |
| I think about them sweet Motown girls they left behind | |
| And the assholes that took their place | |
| Take the hits boys take the hits | |
| Dont smoke your bottle and dont lose your wits | |
| Because the sky is filled with shrapnel | |
| And your eyes are filled with tears | |
| Hold your breath boys hold your breath | |
| Finger your trigger and welcome death | |
| Because the choppers filled with your gutshot friends | |
| Your hearts are filled with fear |
| zuò qǔ : Bielanko, Bielanko | |
| Last night I closed my eyes | |
| And watched the tracers fly | |
| Through the jungle trees | |
| Like fireflies on a windy night | |
| Pulled up and onward by the breeze | |
| I can still hear the far off tincanny sounds | |
| Of their machine guns come unwound | |
| And I was shakin like Little Richard | |
| And I was sweatin like ol James Brown | |
| Over by my window sill | |
| The moon was still | |
| On my cigarettes and wine | |
| Sometimes theres wear I pray to Jesus | |
| Sometimes theres where I pray to die | |
| But I could still sense the circling danger | |
| Of those invisible bastards of a pisshot day | |
| I was shakin with ol Proud Mary | |
| I was sittin on the dock of the bay | |
| Take the hits boys take the hits | |
| Dont smoke your bible and dont lose your wits | |
| Because the sky is filled with shrapnel | |
| And your eyes are filled with tears | |
| Hold your breath boys hold your breath | |
| Finger your trigger and welcome death | |
| Because the choppers filled with your gutshot friends | |
| Your hearts are filled with fear | |
| Fables tell of men who fell | |
| With swords dangling from their chest | |
| The old guys down at the taproom swear | |
| The Japs could kill you best | |
| But late at night I could still hear the cries | |
| Of three black guys I seen take it in the face | |
| I think about them sweet Motown girls they left behind | |
| And the assholes that took their place | |
| Take the hits boys take the hits | |
| Dont smoke your bottle and dont lose your wits | |
| Because the sky is filled with shrapnel | |
| And your eyes are filled with tears | |
| Hold your breath boys hold your breath | |
| Finger your trigger and welcome death | |
| Because the choppers filled with your gutshot friends | |
| Your hearts are filled with fear |
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