Song | When The Piper Calls |
Artist | China Crisis |
Album | Working With Fire And Steel |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
作词 : ?, ? | |
Water drenched people | |
Take me in from the rain | |
To a warm kind of heaven | |
Where it's shining again | |
I've seen some faces | |
Some old and some grey | |
But just like water | |
I let them slip away | |
And if I tumble | |
And if I tumble | |
When morning comes | |
I harvest my thoughts | |
They spread like plague | |
I hear them call | |
The bread in our mouths | |
The dirt on our hands | |
When she calls | |
And if I tumble | |
And if I tumble | |
I found a silent dream | |
And heald it for a day | |
But just like water | |
I let it slip away | |
When morning comes | |
I harvest my thoughts | |
They spread like plague | |
I hear them call |
zuo ci : ?, ? | |
Water drenched people | |
Take me in from the rain | |
To a warm kind of heaven | |
Where it' s shining again | |
I' ve seen some faces | |
Some old and some grey | |
But just like water | |
I let them slip away | |
And if I tumble | |
And if I tumble | |
When morning comes | |
I harvest my thoughts | |
They spread like plague | |
I hear them call | |
The bread in our mouths | |
The dirt on our hands | |
When she calls | |
And if I tumble | |
And if I tumble | |
I found a silent dream | |
And heald it for a day | |
But just like water | |
I let it slip away | |
When morning comes | |
I harvest my thoughts | |
They spread like plague | |
I hear them call |
zuò cí : ?, ? | |
Water drenched people | |
Take me in from the rain | |
To a warm kind of heaven | |
Where it' s shining again | |
I' ve seen some faces | |
Some old and some grey | |
But just like water | |
I let them slip away | |
And if I tumble | |
And if I tumble | |
When morning comes | |
I harvest my thoughts | |
They spread like plague | |
I hear them call | |
The bread in our mouths | |
The dirt on our hands | |
When she calls | |
And if I tumble | |
And if I tumble | |
I found a silent dream | |
And heald it for a day | |
But just like water | |
I let it slip away | |
When morning comes | |
I harvest my thoughts | |
They spread like plague | |
I hear them call |