| Song | The Hudson |
| Artist | Dar Williams |
| Album | My Better Self |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Williams | |
| If we're lucky we feel our lives | |
| know when the next scene arrives | |
| so often we start in the middle and work our way out | |
| we go to some grey sky diner for eggs and toast | |
| New York Times or the New York Post | |
| then we take a ride through the valley of the shadow of death | |
| but even for us New Yorkers, there's a time in every day | |
| the river takes our breath away | |
| And the Hudson, it holds the life | |
| we thought we did it on our own | |
| The river roads collect the tolls | |
| for the passage of our souls | |
| through silence, over woods, through flowers and snow | |
| and past the George Washington Bridge, | |
| down from the trails of Breakneck Ridge, | |
| the river's ancient path is sacred and slow | |
| And as it swings through Harlem, | |
| it's every shade of blue | |
| into the city of the new brand new | |
| And the Hudson, it holds the life | |
| we thought we did it on our own | |
| I thought I had no sense of place or past | |
| time was too slow, but then too fast | |
| the river takes us home at last | |
| Where and when does the memory take hold, | |
| mountain range in the Autumn cold | |
| and I thought West Point was Camelot in the spring. | |
| If you're lucky you'll find something that reflects you, | |
| helps you feel your life protects you, | |
| cradles you and connects you to everything. | |
| This whole life I remember as they begged them to itself | |
| never turn me into someone else | |
| And the Hudson, it holds the life | |
| we thought we did it on our own | |
| And the Hudson, holds the life | |
| we thought we did it on our own |
| zuo ci : Williams | |
| If we' re lucky we feel our lives | |
| know when the next scene arrives | |
| so often we start in the middle and work our way out | |
| we go to some grey sky diner for eggs and toast | |
| New York Times or the New York Post | |
| then we take a ride through the valley of the shadow of death | |
| but even for us New Yorkers, there' s a time in every day | |
| the river takes our breath away | |
| And the Hudson, it holds the life | |
| we thought we did it on our own | |
| The river roads collect the tolls | |
| for the passage of our souls | |
| through silence, over woods, through flowers and snow | |
| and past the George Washington Bridge, | |
| down from the trails of Breakneck Ridge, | |
| the river' s ancient path is sacred and slow | |
| And as it swings through Harlem, | |
| it' s every shade of blue | |
| into the city of the new brand new | |
| And the Hudson, it holds the life | |
| we thought we did it on our own | |
| I thought I had no sense of place or past | |
| time was too slow, but then too fast | |
| the river takes us home at last | |
| Where and when does the memory take hold, | |
| mountain range in the Autumn cold | |
| and I thought West Point was Camelot in the spring. | |
| If you' re lucky you' ll find something that reflects you, | |
| helps you feel your life protects you, | |
| cradles you and connects you to everything. | |
| This whole life I remember as they begged them to itself | |
| never turn me into someone else | |
| And the Hudson, it holds the life | |
| we thought we did it on our own | |
| And the Hudson, holds the life | |
| we thought we did it on our own |
| zuò cí : Williams | |
| If we' re lucky we feel our lives | |
| know when the next scene arrives | |
| so often we start in the middle and work our way out | |
| we go to some grey sky diner for eggs and toast | |
| New York Times or the New York Post | |
| then we take a ride through the valley of the shadow of death | |
| but even for us New Yorkers, there' s a time in every day | |
| the river takes our breath away | |
| And the Hudson, it holds the life | |
| we thought we did it on our own | |
| The river roads collect the tolls | |
| for the passage of our souls | |
| through silence, over woods, through flowers and snow | |
| and past the George Washington Bridge, | |
| down from the trails of Breakneck Ridge, | |
| the river' s ancient path is sacred and slow | |
| And as it swings through Harlem, | |
| it' s every shade of blue | |
| into the city of the new brand new | |
| And the Hudson, it holds the life | |
| we thought we did it on our own | |
| I thought I had no sense of place or past | |
| time was too slow, but then too fast | |
| the river takes us home at last | |
| Where and when does the memory take hold, | |
| mountain range in the Autumn cold | |
| and I thought West Point was Camelot in the spring. | |
| If you' re lucky you' ll find something that reflects you, | |
| helps you feel your life protects you, | |
| cradles you and connects you to everything. | |
| This whole life I remember as they begged them to itself | |
| never turn me into someone else | |
| And the Hudson, it holds the life | |
| we thought we did it on our own | |
| And the Hudson, holds the life | |
| we thought we did it on our own |