Ghost In The Music Lyrics

	作词 : Griffith, Taylor
	Down at the station the tracks are cold
	the wheels of thunder, they roll no more
	and the heart of America cries for the souls
	who won't be rollin' home
	The dragon weeps with empty eyes,
	the whistle sighs no more in the night ...
	It rests in the lines, like a ghost in the music,
	the soul of America's pride
	Toil of our fathers with foreign hands,
	they laid the tracks and they opened the plains
	they fought the mountains and they merged our seas
	they set America free
	Tell me,...Where is the blaze of the hobo's caldron?
	The refuge for these poor and these fallen?
	It rests in the lines, like a ghost in the music,
	the soul of America's pride
	Foreign father ...American son, father see what your son has done
	He's torn up the mountains
	and reshaped the plains
	the dreams he dreams aren't the same
	To the fallen ones who may still be askin,
	"Who'd take time to stir these ashes,
	Who'll hear the lines of a ghost in the music
	and kindle America's pride?"
	Tell me,... Where is the blaze of the hobo's caldron?
	The refuge for these poor and these fallen?
	It rests in the lines, like a ghost in the music,
	the soul of America's pride.

	zuo ci : Griffith, Taylor
	Down at the station the tracks are cold
	the wheels of thunder, they roll no more
	and the heart of America cries for the souls
	who won' t be rollin' home
	The dragon weeps with empty eyes,
	the whistle sighs no more in the night ...
	It rests in the lines, like a ghost in the music,
	the soul of America' s pride
	Toil of our fathers with foreign hands,
	they laid the tracks and they opened the plains
	they fought the mountains and they merged our seas
	they set America free
	Tell me,... Where is the blaze of the hobo' s caldron?
	The refuge for these poor and these fallen?
	It rests in the lines, like a ghost in the music,
	the soul of America' s pride
	Foreign father ... American son, father see what your son has done
	He' s torn up the mountains
	and reshaped the plains
	the dreams he dreams aren' t the same
	To the fallen ones who may still be askin,
	" Who' d take time to stir these ashes,
	Who' ll hear the lines of a ghost in the music
	and kindle America' s pride?"
	Tell me,... Where is the blaze of the hobo' s caldron?
	The refuge for these poor and these fallen?
	It rests in the lines, like a ghost in the music,
	the soul of America' s pride.

	zuò cí : Griffith, Taylor
	Down at the station the tracks are cold
	the wheels of thunder, they roll no more
	and the heart of America cries for the souls
	who won' t be rollin' home
	The dragon weeps with empty eyes,
	the whistle sighs no more in the night ...
	It rests in the lines, like a ghost in the music,
	the soul of America' s pride
	Toil of our fathers with foreign hands,
	they laid the tracks and they opened the plains
	they fought the mountains and they merged our seas
	they set America free
	Tell me,... Where is the blaze of the hobo' s caldron?
	The refuge for these poor and these fallen?
	It rests in the lines, like a ghost in the music,
	the soul of America' s pride
	Foreign father ... American son, father see what your son has done
	He' s torn up the mountains
	and reshaped the plains
	the dreams he dreams aren' t the same
	To the fallen ones who may still be askin,
	" Who' d take time to stir these ashes,
	Who' ll hear the lines of a ghost in the music
	and kindle America' s pride?"
	Tell me,... Where is the blaze of the hobo' s caldron?
	The refuge for these poor and these fallen?
	It rests in the lines, like a ghost in the music,
	the soul of America' s pride.

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